Puck's Journey
by Strangerine
Summary: Imagine if Puck was shot, but didn't wake up until after Meghan became the Iron Queen. What would he do? Who would he become? Would he get a second chance at happiness, or is he cursed to pine after a girl and a life he can't have? This is his story. (Alternate Universe.) Cover Art belongs to airdima @ DeviantArt.
1. Chapter One

It's a strange thing, being dead.

Well, not _dead_, but lingering in the realm between death and life, aware of one's own consciousness but not possessing that consciousness. How long Puck had been like this, he didn't know. At the time, he didn't even know his name. Robin Goodfellow, Puck, even his True Name had been forgotten, stolen by the darkness and leaving him in a dream state as he waited to succumb to the darkness or be reclaimed by the light.

Robin's last moments flitted through his thoughts, unrelated ideas and feelings reminding him of his previous existence. The last he remembered was a popping noise ripping through the air, and even now Puck felt it echo in the darkness as something pierced his flesh and poisoned him. Something foreign and terrible had poisoned his blood, even as it poured out his body, making him feel weak and empty. Robin didn't remember after that. By now, he wondered why he hadn't finished dying or been woken up by now. Something tethered the fae to his world, but didn't pull him back.

Until now.

Puck's eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. His limbs flailed and he toppled forward, his muscles abandoning him. The sudden influx of light, sound and sensation made his body ache, and he struggled to shout, to move, to do anything other than cower on the ground. Within moments, unknown creatures came to his side and picked him up, their fingers rough against his skin. Robin only manage feeble, animal cries while being carried away, the sensations of his new world overwhelming him.

The strange entities laid him on a softer bed and covered him with glamour to ease his pain. He slipped back into darkness, and entered a world between wakefulness and slumber. Every time his mind awoke and he sensed the world around him, a terrible discomfort descended, making his skin crawl as every sensation felt magnified by a thousand. He only remained conscious for a few moments before returning to sleep, but the ache receded every time he awoke and soon he dared to open his eyes.

When he did, the light stung, but he managed to squint long enough for his sight to adjust. He laid in a small bed, in a room made of trees and walls made of branches. Bunches of leaves hung over the walls to make a green ceiling, and beams of sunlight filtered through the holes in the foliage. Smooth, healthy grass covered the ground, and small globes of dimmed faery fire hovered in the air.

A dryad sat in a chair near his bed, looking shocked when their eyes met. She stood and went to his side, watching his face with brown eyes that lacked pupils. She wore long robes made of plants and furs and had rough brown skin, like bark. Auburn hair swayed in the breeze as she examined Robin's face with gentle fingers.

"You're awake. Can you speak?" the dryad asked, looking stunned. Puck could only stare up at her, his mind void of language or understanding. The dryad's shoulders slumped, and a tired smile caused more wrinkles to form in her gnarled face. "No, I wouldn't think so. But even so, you being awake at all is a miracle." The older dryad smiled down at him, and turned to take a bowl of water from her own plate and lift it to his lips. "My name is Aster," the woman murmured as the trickster drank, "and I'm going to take care of you until you get well." Once sated, Robin fell back to sleep.

An unknown amount of time passed like this. Robin would wake, and Aster would be there. She would give him food and water, and clean up any mess he had made in his sleep. He would stare at her with vacant, mournful eyes, and she would shake her head at him as she cleaned his bedsheets. Something inside of Puck would rear its head, and he would feel the commanding urge to scream, to shout, to say _something_, and frustration would fill him as he struggled to form coherent thoughts from the nameless emotions.

When he slept, he sometimes felt free and weightless, like he had in stasis. When he woke up, Robin would feel enclosed in his own skin, a prisoner of his flesh. At times he could make little breathy noises, and Aster would watch him with wide, excited eyes, and then Puck would get tired and fall asleep again, unaware of Aster's disappointed and pitying gaze. "It would be such a shame," she'd say, "to see the great Robin Goodfellow come back from the dead, only to live the rest of his life being trapped in his own body."

One day, like any other, Aster came into Robin's room. "Good morning, Goodfellow," Aster said, smiling as she wiped Puck's forehead with a damp cloth. As Robin watched her, his face lacking emotion, she went through her daily routine by wiping him down, changing his sheets, then hurrying off to fetch his meal. The sound of clinking bowls echoed in the distance, and Robin stared up towards the sun as something itched in the back of his mind. His heartbeat drummed through his skull like an impatient knock at the door, faster and faster as his blood rushed through his veins. Puck broke out into a sweat. He stood on the edge of a cliff-side, one step away from an epiphany.

"Robin?" Aster's worried voice came from the room's entrance, and in his peripheral vision Robin could see she held a tray of food in her hands. "Robin!" Aster ran to his side, clutching his feverish palm inside her own cool one.

Puck's mind throbbed inside his skull, willing him to remember. Aster's eyes widened, and through the violent cacophony of his own mind, Robin could hear her calling for the other nurses. Footsteps crashed through the door, and Puck shut his eyes to the light that suddenly seemed too bright. The sound of nervous voices and loud footsteps overloaded his mind, and it broke the mental walls Robin had created for himself while in stasis.

Puck forced chapped lips to move, forming words he struggled to remember and understand. "Aster," he said, his voice halting and choked. His eyes took on a sudden gleam, a look of consciousness instead of vegetative life. Robin's heart calmed, his vision stilled, and he could hear again. All that remained of his fit was a layer of sweat on his clammy skin. "Aster," he repeated, staring into the eyes of the shocked dryad.

A sudden, surprised mist formed in Aster's eyes. "Robin," she said, squeezing the tricksters hand. "Robin Goodfellow."

Puck paused, then his lips turned into a small, innocent smile. "Robin."

* * *

><p>Robin glowered at his book. The words swam together, indecipherable clusters of black ink that taunted him. Puck ignored his growing headache and struggled through each word. In his head, the trickster felt he understood what the sentences meant, but his eyes refused to translate the forgotten language.<p>

"Having fun?" Aster asked, coming up behind him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah. I'm having a ball." Puck snorted and slammed the book shut before running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and focused on the throbbing pain in his skull. "It feels like a heavy metal band is holding a concert in my head."

Aster massaged his shoulders. "I know it's unpleasant, Robin, but there's very little I can do. Eventually your mind will adjust and the headaches will go away, but I don't know when that'll be."

"Gee, thanks." Puck grunted. "You're very helpful."

"You're right, I am." Aster smiled. "Come on. If your brain is tired, then we can work your muscles." The dryad led her charge from the room to a grove filled with makeshift exercise equipment. Sticks, stones and bags of sand littered the ground, each item promising hours of physical suffering.

"Do I have to?" Robin whined.

"Would you rather let your muscles atrophy even further?" Lacking a comeback, the trickster sat down on a stool and began to lift a pair of dumbbells, grumbling as he did so. "I didn't think so."

"You know, I could just not do this," Puck said, his pride wounded. "I could say, 'you know what? I think I'm better now. Thanks for all your help, but I'm going to join the rest of the fae now. Goodbye!'"

"Is that so?" Aster asked, amused. "Then why haven't you?"

Robin matched the woman's smirk. "I knew you'd miss me."

Aster opened her mouth to reply when a small knock came at the door. "Yes?" the dryad called, her brow furrowing in confusion as she turned to the source of the sound. "Who is it?"

"Barla," a shy, feminine voice replied, her words muffled by the door. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Aster said, bemused. Barla entered the room, and Robin took in her appearance. He didn't often get to see dryads other than Aster. Barla looked small, a good measure shorter than both Aster and Robin. She wore a plain dress of grass and leaves hung together to imitate fabric, and she had solid brown eyes. Her face had less age than Aster's, and anxiety and shyness showed in her expression.

"A letter arrived for Robin Goodfellow." The dryad took a slip of paper from her pocket and her eyes flickered between Aster and Puck as she waited for someone to take it.

"I'll have that, thank you," Aster said, taking the letter from the younger dryad. She turned from both her and Puck and walked to the corner under a floating globe of faery fire, her face unreadable as she read the letter.

"That letter is for me," Robin called, waving a hand at Aster, who ignored him. Puck shrugged and turned to watch Barla. The dryad looked up at him between locks of long, vine-like green hair. Puck grinned at her and her light brown cheeks flooded pink. Barla held her chin to her chest, letting her hair fall over her eyes and avoiding Robin's gaze.

Puck sighed and returned to his stool, putting his hands behind his head and waiting for Aster to finish the letter. Aster maintained an emotionless expression as her eyes went down the page, and she soon finished reading. She looked up and stared off into space before giving a quiet sigh and turning to Puck. "Robin, before you read this, there's something I have to tell you."

Something prickled in the base of Puck's skull. "Do tell," Robin said, forcing a smile.

Aster waved Barla out of the room, then took a deep breath. "Robin," she began, "do you know how long you were in stasis?"

Alarm bells went off in Puck's head. "Including the time spent recuperating?" Aster nodded. "Maybe a year and a half. Year or so in stasis, then a few months spent rebuilding my abilities." Robin spoke in a guarded voice, wary of the information Aster seemed so reluctant to give.

Aster's shoulders slumped, and age tugged at her. "I'm afraid you are incorrect, Robin," she said. "I'm sorry I never told you this before. I wanted to wait until I was sure you were ready to face the world to tell you this. But unfortunately, the world has other ideas."

Puck chuckled, but anxiety colored his voice. "Well, how bad is it, Doc? You're killing me here."

"Puck, you've been asleep for four years."

Beat. "You're kidding," he whispered, his face white.

"I'm not. Granted, it is just an estimate, considering fae time is unreliable at best, but we do believe it's been four years."

Silence filled the room as Robin digested this. A year and half had seemed bad enough, but four years was unimaginable. How much had changed while he lay sleeping? A thought struck Puck out of the middle of nowhere; what happened to Meghan? To Ash? To the Iron Fey and the Courts? Suddenly a mental wall crumbled in the tricksters mind, and panic rushed through Robin's veins.

"What...dear God. I can't. What has changed? Is Meghan all right? Is Ash all right? I don't...shit. I have to go. I have to see them." Puck stood up from his stool and looked around the room, as if searching for Meghan and Ash.

"Robin, sit down," Aster said, putting a gentle hand on Puck's shoulder and easing him back down to the stool. "I understand you're a bit overwhelmed."

Puck snorted. "That's the understatement of the year."

"Yes, well," Aster said, smiling. "I believe this letter is the answer to your questions. But I had to tell you the truth before you rejoined the world." Aster opened her palm and revealed an opened envelope. In neat, clean handwriting written in dark silver ink, the name _Robin Goodfellow _was written on the front of the letter.

Puck swallowed and took . "This will answer my questions?" he asked, motioning towards the letter. Aster smiled and nodded. Robin took a deep inhale and exhale, then pulled the slip of paper from the envelope. Robin held his breath and began to read.

_Dear Robin Goodfellow,_

_You may not remember me. You may not want to remember me. I would understand if you resented me, even after all this time. Our past is a difficult one, and there is little in this world that could overcome the walls between us. But your death, I feel, is an adequate catalyst for change. Much has changed in the past four years, Puck, and I offer my help to you. Let me show you our new world, and let us try to put our pasts behind us. I am a better man than I was, less angry and fueled by bitterness and sorrow. If you want to start over, and want me to tell you all that has happened in the past half-decade, send me a letter. Pen and paper is enclosed. If I receive no reply, I will assume you have no interest in communication and will not press the matter.  
><em>

_Signed, Prince Ash._

"That's...interesting," Puck breathed. "So Ash wants to be friends again."

"Is that so wrong?" Aster asked, her voice bringing Puck's attention away from the letter. "Prince Ash considered you dead, Puck. Perhaps that hurt hi more than he thought it would. Now that you have returned, this is a chance to regain the relationship you once had. It could be a fresh start."

"You should write motivational posters," Puck smirked.

Aster chuckled. "Maybe. But the real question is, are you going to write his Highness a reply?"

Puck pulled the pen out of the envelope and rolled it between his fingers, a pensive expression on his face. But he decided quickly. Robin looked back at Aster and grinned, his eyes sparkling with an old mischief. "Why not?"


	2. Chapter Two

Puck chewed on his fingertips while he sat cross-legged on his bed, his eyes far away. He didn't hear Aster enter the room, his free hand playing with threads on the end of his shirt. "Robin?"

Puck jerked, nearly biting his fingers off. He swallowed and forced a smile, concealing his nervousness. "What's up?"

Aster pursed her lips and stepped forward, taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs. "What are you worried about?"

"Me? Worried? Never. Not me, nope. No sir. Definitely not." Robin looked all around the room, his eyes everywhere but on Aster's burning gaze. After a few, tense moments, the lie he told nagged at his fey nature and he sighed. "I'm expecting a letter from Ash."

"I see." Aster crossed her legs. "It seems important."

"It is." Puck ran a hand through his hair and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Whenever I write to Ash, he's always evasive about Meghan. I ask a dozen different questions, and he answers almost everything, but he always glosses over the parts about Meghan. I don't know why, but he refuses to talk about her. He's married to her, you'd think he'd have something to say." Robin struggled to swallow for a moment, his head swivelling to look at Aster's impassive face. "You know they're married, right? Lord and lady of the Iron Kingdom?"

"Yes, I do."

"Yeah. That's a thing." Another sigh escaped Puck's lungs, and he returned to staring at the ceiling. His head began to throb as visions of him and Meghan at high school danced in front of his sight, old memories filling his mind. When they cleared, Robin groaned and tried to ignore the headache. "In any case, he said this latest letter will give me something to think about. I'm not sure what the hell that means, so I'm on edge. A little bit. Maybe."

"He didn't tell you what to expect?"

Robin shook his head. "Nope. I'm totally in the dark." He opened his mouth, about to say more when the sound of footsteps silenced him. A younger dryad entered the room, stepping towards the duo with a slip of paper in one trembling hand. She swallowed and spoke.

"A letter has arrived from Prince Ash," she said, her brown eyes wide.

"My dear, what's wrong?" Aster said, her brow furrowing in worry as she drew the girl closer.

"Nothing's wrong, my lady," the girl replied, casting a quick glance over at Robin, "but Iron soldiers on horseback just delivered the letter. None of the other dryads know what to think."

Aster frowned, taking the letter from the dryads hand. "It's nothing to be worried about, I hope. Go on, now." The girl nodded and left the room. Aster waited until her footsteps trailed off before bringing the letter over and handing it to Robin. "I believe this is for you."

Puck took the letter and opened it, his heartbeat speeding up in anticipation and anxiety. The stationary of the letter had more designs and decorations on it, and looked much more official than Ash's other letters. Puck skimmed him eyes down the page.

_To Robin Goodfellow, _the letter read,

_Your presence is requested at the Iron Kingdom. This is a formal invitation from Queen Meghan and the Prince Consort Ash. We expect your presence within the next season. We have taken care of transportation and accommodations, so you need not be concerned with either. Disregarding this summons will be taken as an act of extreme disrespect against the crown. We hope to see you soon, and wish you well on your journey. _

"What does it say?" Aster asked. Robin handed the letter to her and watched as she read over it. One eyebrow shot into her forehead, and she handed the paper back with a bemused look. "Interesting."

"I'll admit, I'm surprised. I didn't expect them to ask me that. Granted, it is a lot nicer than what I had in mind." Puck let out a deep sigh.

Aster pursed her lips and folded her hands in front of her. "I suppose you should go."

"Suppose?"

"I...am a little concerned about how they plan to have you stay in their court, and it does sound a bit strange, but I trust you to have good judgement."

Robin chuckled. "Me? Good judgement? You must not know me very well."

Aster smiled. "On the contrary. I think I know you very well. Listen to me, Robin," she said, making Robin quiet his laughter, "I think you should go. You are much more sensible than you give yourself credit for, and I think it's about time you found out the truth, or whatever it is you want to find. Of course, that won't stop me from worrying when you're out of my care and off in the big wide world."

"I promise to look both ways when I cross the street, and not to run with scissors," Puck replied with a grin.

Aster sniffed. "Mock me if you will, Robin, but I do care for you." The older woman outstretched a hand and cupped the side of Puck's face. "You've endured a great deal, and deserve much better than you have."

Her words struck an unfamiliar chord in the tricksters heart. He swallowed. "...That means a lot to me."

Aster smiled, but her eyes held a sadness in them. "The world is not the same as you left it, Puck, and I hate to imagine what it will do to you. I can only hope that you'll find someone to appreciate you, and care for you when I'm not there."

Robin's heart clenched. He forced a smile. "I didn't know you cared so much."

"You're a good person, Robin, as much as you hate to admit it. Yes, I do care about you, and I know how much you've been hurt. I only wish you won't have to be hurt again." With that, Aster reached up and pulled Puck into an embrace, wrapping her lean arms around his shoulders.

Robin's throat went tight, and he returned the hug. "Thank you, for that," he whispered.

The following morning, everyone woke at dawn and went to the entrance of the Wyldwood. In his head, Puck argued that no sane creature would be up at this hour, but the countless shining eyes that watched him as he trundled to the front of the group kept the irritation to himself. Robin placed his bags in front of the trod doorway, and one by one, each dryad stepped forward to say goodbye. Some looked proud, others had tears in their eyes, and they each placed a kiss on his forehead. Soon, Aster came up.

"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it," she murmured, the morning light casting an orange glow on her skin. "Having everyone come up to see you."

Puck struggled to overcome the lump in his throat. "There's so much feels," he said, smiling. "I didn't know I was this popular."

Aster smiled, placed her hands on his shoulders and forced him to kneel in front of her. When she spoke, her voice echoed through the trees. "We wish you well on your journey, Robin Goodfellow. May you find peace, prosperity and truth." She kissed his forehead, and this time spoke in a whisper. "Even if you forget me, Robin, know that I will always think of you."

Robin blinked away a sudden wetness in his eyes and stood up. "I will never forget you, Aster," he replied.

Aster smiled. "Until we meet again."

Soon, too soon, the hands of other dryads pulled him away from Aster and placed his pack over his shoulders. They urged him to the trod. "This is the way to the Wyldwood," one of them murmured. "Once you go through there, follow the path and follow the feeling of Iron. You should get there in a few days."

Robin recognized the girl speaking. "Thank you, Barla." Barla jerked her head up, her cheeks flushed pink. Puck smiled, ruffled her hair, and stepped through the pass.

* * *

><p>When the door shut behind him, a gust of wind slapped Puck in the face. The sadness in his heart vanished as his senses were overloaded, every facet of the wood calling to mind a thousand memories. Memories of blood and laughter, adrenaline and adventure, and the occasional touch of fear. It took a moment before the storm in his mind calmed enough so Robin could see and hear. Every step he took, every scent, sound and sight bombarded him with visions of the past. He'd managed to find the dirt road that led to the Iron Kingdom, and now he walked along, enjoying the nostalgic sensations.<p>

Puck had always felt the Wyldwood suited him more than even the Summer Court, and as he walked he relaxed and fell back into his usual swagger. He knew every bird call, every river, every whisper of the wind as it blew through the thick, intersecting branches of the trees that cast shadows across the path. Robin took his time along the road, stopping every so often to take a breath of the smooth, rich air and to hear the overlapping sounds of the forest. "I'd stop to smell the roses," Puck murmured, twirling his dagger between his fingers, "but I hate being cliché."

Hours passed like this, and soon an old tune cropped up inside the tricksters head. He didn't remember where he'd heard it, but the words fell from his lips with ease.

" - _Long ago, I knew a maiden fair  
><em>

_She had bright blue eyes, and long blond hair_

_She was good and kind, she was faithful and true  
><em>

_And she said to me, I'll marry you  
><em>

_ - But when I left, she forgot what we had  
><em>

_Her heart moved on, to a better lad  
><em>

_When I returned, holding close to his chest_

_Was the woman I loved, the girl I knew best_

_- She did not remember, and passed me by_

_I was a stranger, and I wanted to die_

_My kin had abandoned me, and I lost my lover  
><em>

_for the man who stole my girl was my brother."_

"A rather appropriate song, Puck. What makes you think of it?" Puck jerked and fell into an offensive stance, his grasp tightening around his dagger. The blade felt good in his hand, familiar and powerful. But the voice caused another influx of memories, and a smooth grin spread across Robin's face, though he did not lower his weapon.

"Grimalkin!" Robin called out. "It's great to see you again! Or, well, hear you." Sure enough, the cat slunk out on the branch of a nearby tree and perched there, amused feline eyes watching the trickster. "What brings you here?" Puck asked.

"Is it so wrong to want to see an old friend?" Grimalkin purred.

"I didn't know we were friends," Puck replied. He had meant it as a joke, but the forest around the pair had fallen silent, and tension hung in the air. Robin didn't know what caused it, and it made his skin crawl. "Care to tell me why the Wyldwood's losing it's shit, Grim?"

Grimalkin ignored the question, his tail flicking. "It's been such a long time, hasn't it," Grimalkin purred. "Years now. Almost everyone thought you were dead."

"Almost?" Robin ignored the chills running up his spine and raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't believe it for a moment," Grimalkin said, lips curling in a smile that showed pointy teeth. "Robin Goodfellow does not just _die_, bullet or no. Too much to take care of. There is the matter of Meghan, after all."

Puck swallowed. "I didn't come back for her."

Grimalkin smirked. "No? Well, she certainly played a part in your awakening. However, you are correct. You were asleep for four years, and when a fae stays asleep for that long, it can only be caused by the influence of a higher power."

"A higher power?" Robin asked. "I never took you for the religious type, Grim."

Grimalkin gave a shrug, or the feline approximation. "Mortal deities and beliefs mean very little to me, Goodfellow. I speak of a true god, one that ascends everything."

Puck crossed his arms and watched the cat with a guarded expression. "You've got something to say, cat, so spit it out."

The Cait Sith sniffed. "Very well. I trust you understand the concept of alternate dimensions?"

"They...yes?"

Grimalkin rolled his eyes. "For every decision we make, there are a thousand outcomes. Those outcomes form entirely different realities, ones that are separate but connected to our own. However, our actions are predetermined...to a point. Determined by what, we do not know. One god, many gods, a malevolent or benevolent all-powerful force, it could be anything. But there is definitely something out there, something we don't understand."

The cat's words made Robin's skin shiver. "You act like this is all proven," Puck tried, his voice more afraid than he intended. "This is all in theory, I'm sure."

Grimalkin smirked. "It would be nice if it was, but it is not." The cat paused, then returned the trickster's gaze with a sudden intensity. "I tell you this, now, because there has been a shift. In all of the different realities, you have been granted nothing but suffering and sorrow. Either a pawn in someone else's story, or a pitied hero forced into strange and horrifying circumstances."

"How cheerful," Robin said, his breathing light. Some time ago, the air had vanished from his lungs and left him feeling dizzy and light-headed.

"But now..." Grimalkin paused again. "Now you have been given a chance at a genuine future. A way to a new life. Along the way, you will learn a great deal, and what you discover may both pain and free you. You may cast off the shackles of your past, of your story as it once was, or you may cling to your known world, and wallow in your own suffering. My role is simply to guide you, as I once guided Ash, and guided Meghan before him."

The Cait Sith nodded, having reached his conclusion, and turned to go. Something made him pause. "Robin, what is the last verse of that song?"

"What?" Robin felt off-balance, his world shaken with fear and uncertainty. This new information left him feeling small and weak, and he didn't like it.

"The last verse of the song."

"I..." Puck swallowed and tried to remember. The words came to mind in an instant, and Puck began to sing, hoping for an explanation.

_" - I must go, to find what I lost_

_A new world awaits, but at what cost_

_To my past I say farewell then I depart_

_To find what may soothe my broken heart."_

Once the verse finished, Puck opened closed eyes to see the cat had vanished. "Grimalkin," Robin shouted, his voice echoing in the trees around him. "_Grimalkin!_"

No reply came. The wind whistled through the branches, but not even a birdsong came to calm Puck's growing unease. Anxiety thrummed through his veins, and he felt eyes on the back of his neck. He whirled around, but he saw nothing.

"Well, that's my good mood gone," Robin muttered.


	3. Chapter Three

Robin struggled to ignore the strange conversation between him and Grimalkin, forcing himself to think of other things. Where he had taken his time enjoying the scenery, he now sped up his pace and kept his head down as a strange weight pushed on his shoulders. He stopped walking only for sleep and meals, and made sure to do the exercises Aster had assigned to him. Whether it be reading and writing, or keeping his strength up, he went through the routines every morning.

Several days later, Puck struggled to find his way. "Where the hell am I supposed to go?" he asked aloud. "They didn't give me much to go on. What, do they want me to 'fly to the second star to the right and straight on till morning?' Christ."

As he prepared to continue his one-sided rant, a breeze floated passed his nose, bringing with it the smell of blood. The internal conversation ceased as Puck raised his head to sniff the air. The wind smelled like copper or metal. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his lips as he realized the true source of the smell. A breathless whisper escaped him. "_Iron."_

And then he ran, allowing the smell of Iron to guide him, sometimes doubling back to follow the scent. The wind tossed the aroma around, disorienting him, but soon Robin came close enough to follow the Iron based on the burning of his skin. His lungs became inflamed and his vision blurred as his eyes watered, but Puck pressed on. The air he breathed singed his throat and nose, and sickness bloomed in his stomach. Heat licked at his face as Robin forced his way towards the Iron Realm, and the greenery around him thinned until he stood on the edge of a desert, poisonous dust clinging to his leather boots. Faint silver lines on the horizon were the only trees, and gray tufts of plant grew from between the cracks in the hardened, dried-out ground.

Puck's throat felt dry and his lungs cried for air from his sprint through the woods, but as he gasped for breath the Iron atmosphere did more harm than good. His stomach churned and he resisted the urge to curl up into the fetal position and lie upon the ground, forcing his eyes open to look at the scene, to try to find signs of life or help. Out in the distance, a moving object made heat waves ripple through the air. Robin raised a weak hand and waved, willing himself to shout. "Hey!" he called. "Over here!"

The object stopped moving, then turned and raced towards Puck. _Maybe this is a bad idea,_ he thought, but he didn't have the strength to run. As the object came closer, the ground beneath Robin's feet began to rumble, the dust bouncing an inch off the ground as the mysterious entity approached. It's form became distinct, revealing itself to be a military vehicle, tan camouflage painted on its sides. Puck's knees went weak, and he slipped to the ground, darkness creeping at the corners of his vision.

The vehicle stopped next to him and soldiers leaped out of the doors, all running towards him with faces blurred by Puck's failing sight. Robin fell, and strong hands gripped him as the breath left his body.

* * *

><p>When Robin woke up, his stomach flipped over. He rolled on his side and vomited, his eyes closed as he heard chunky slopping sounds hit a smooth floor. <em>Delightful,<em> Puck thought. He opened his eyes and jerked a hand to his face against the bright light. His limbs felt like they moved through water, and Robin felt like he was going to throw up again. He did.

"Are you finished?" came an amused voice from across the room.

Puck didn't reply at once, too busy emptying the contents of his stomach. When he relaxed, Robin felt hot, and his nose burned as he sniffed the remnants of his last meal. He sat up in his bed and wiped his chin with his sleeve. "Where am I?" Blinking his eyes open, Puck looked towards the sound of the voice and his jaw dropped. "Ash?"

The Winter Prince smirked. "Goodfellow." Ash wore clothes similar to his usual Winter royal outfit, but they wore the colors of the Iron Kingdom, silver and gray.

Puck looked at Ash, then he looked at his pile of vomit, then he looked at Ash again. "What's going on?"

"We brought you into the Iron Kingdom. When you passed out in the desert, we carried you through one of the side passages into the Summer wing." Robin frowned, and Ash continued to explain. "It's the part of the court reserved for visiting Seelie fey. We use it for Elysium, and other events like that. There's a Winter one as well."

"That's...okay. Yes. Dandy. Fantastic. So, why did you ask me here again?" Puck threw his sheets off and stood from the bed, his uneasy stomach forcing him to move slowly.

"I wanted to meet you, and explain everything in person." Ash watched as Robin toddled to the wardrobe at the far wall, opening the doors and finding a clean set of clothes. "There's a lot I haven't mentioned in my letters, and I felt it was better for you to see it all than have me tell you in writing."

"Oh, but you couldn't tell me that before you sent me the invitation, no. You had to be all weird and mysterious, didn't you? Shithead." Puck took the clothes from the wardrobe and pressed them to his skin, seeing how each shirt and trousers fit. Robin looked up at Ash and frowned. "Do these pants make me look fat?" he asked.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Puck looked the prince up and down. "No," he said at last. "I don't think I want to take fashion advice from Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody."

Robin could have sworn he saw Ash's eye twitch. "I'll let you clean up." Ash cleared his throat. "When you're ready to meet me, someone will be waiting for you outside the door."

As Ash shut the door behind him, Puck took a look around his room. A massive skylight made up the ceiling, letting golden sunlight filter in through the glass. Plants decorated the room, sitting on tables, hanging from the ceiling, and growing on the wall. Distant birdsong echoed from an unknown source, and pale marble walls and floors shone in the light. The furniture consisted of a table and chairs, a wardrobe, a desk, and the bed Robin had woken up in. Cream, green and gold made up the palette of the décor, and it looked for all the world like Oberon's bedroom.

It occurred to Robin that some people would be curious about how he knew what the Erlking's bedroom looking like. "Let's not take that trip down memory lane just now, brain," the trickster muttered, running a hand through his hair. He changed clothes, and found his boots sitting at the edge of his bed. His dagger sat on the desk, freshly sharpened. Puck slid the weapon into his boot and made for the door.

As soon as he went within arms reach of the doorknob, a servant opened the door, startling the trickster. "Are you ready, my lord?"

Robin blinked, then swallowed. "Take me to your leader, then." The joke helped him relax, but not by much. The hallways the pair traveled in looked as Summer themed as Puck's bedroom, with pale walls complemented by green or gold decor. Random animals skittered along the walls and floors. Far away music filtered in through closed windows that looked out into a forest. The faint smell of the outdoors wafted up Robin's nose, smelling of dirt and plants and exotic flowers.

A thousand questions and witty remarks stood on the tip of Puck's tongue, but he held them back. The uncertainty of his situation and the nagging anxiety that hummed in his blood kept him silent. Soon he and the servant arrived at a small sitting room, with a fireplace in the corner of the room that crackled with a cool, golden flame. Ash sat in one of the chairs facing the doorway, and he smiled at Robin's entrance. The servant bowed and excused himself, and Puck took a seat across from Ash, his back facing the door. "It's good to see you, Goodfellow," Ash said.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Robin quipped, forcing a grin. Nervous fingers twitched as he ached for his dagger.

"I never thought I'd say a lot of things." The smile melted from Ash's lips. "Goodfellow, I..."

"You missed me?" Puck had meant it as a joke, but he saw the prince stiffen.

"...Yes." A brief, heavy silence fell over the pair. "You can't imagine how disturbing this is for me."

The trickster snorted. "You think it's easy on me, ice-boy?"

"Puck, the last time I saw you, you were in stasis with the dryads, pale and lifeless. Now, you're sitting in front of me, and it's like nothing's changed. Like four years haven't gone by, with me blaming myself every day for your death."

Robin swallowed, the mirth draining from his eyes. "I thought you would have been happy I died."

"So did I. I tried to be, for a time. I told myself I had hated you, resented you. I told myself you killed Ariella. But I realised, then, that if you died I lost the only other friend I had. I was alone. It's one thing to tell yourself you're alone, and to feed off that self-induced bitterness, and another thing to realise you have no one in the world who cares if you live or die."

"You had Meghan." Puck felt a stab of pain in his chest. "You can't say you were alone."

"You're right. I had her. And she is how I became the man I am now. Your death pushed me to express how I felt about her, to protect her and love her. And I don't regret it."

Robin's throat felt dry."Of course you don't. I died, and you got the girl, the kingdom and the mortal soul. Of course you wouldn't regret that. But answer me this, ice-boy," he whispered, an uncharacteristic intensity gleaming in his eyes, "Where does that leave me? You're one to talk about loneliness, prince. You've never known the meaning of the word.

"Hey, let's talk about Ariella, shall we? You don't think I didn't blame myself for her death? Every day. Every _hour_, I hated myself.I hated myself because I had gotten her killed. The person I was, a stupid, reckless faery, had brought her to her death. It wasn't a battle we were fighting together, it wasn't a surprise attack, it was her trying to fix my idiocy. I had no one to blame but myself, and it killed me. You know that feeling you had, knowing no one in the world cared if you lived or died? I lived with that for years.

"And now what?" Puck's began to shout. "Now you've won. You took the girl I loved, you've become Prince Consort to a race of fey no one believed could exist, and you got to move on. You got to keep going, to deal with everything, to overcome old wounds and hatreds and to have some goddamn personal growth, while I sat dead in a tree. You have no idea what it's like to be alone, ice-boy. No fucking idea."

Ash watched the trickster grow angrier, his hands clenching into fists over the ends of his chair, and his eyes gleaming with pain and rage. "So now you see my predicament," the prince murmured. "I've had four years to turn the tables on you and become a different person, while you are a virtual ghost of the past. It's like looking back in time, and I don't know what I can do to help you."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Robin's throat felt tight and heat rose behind his eyes. "It is a fey's worst nightmare to be forgotten, and everything I know has changed, and everyone I care about has moved on. What am I supposed to do in a world that's left me behind?"

Ash opened his mouth to speak, but he spied something behind Puck and his eyes went wide. The Winter fey came to his feet and outstretched a hand to the unknown entity. "Meghan, what is it?"

Dead silence hovered in the room. "Robbie?" came a small, painfully familiar voice. Robin felt his heart race as he started to sweat, and he turned around to see Meghan watching him with wide eyes.

Puck's voice came out in a whisper. "_Meghan_."


	4. Chapter Four

Age looked good on her. A small, pointed face with slim ear jutting from each side of her head, and long silver-blond hair that fell long past her shoulders. Wide, crystal eyes stared at him, and she wore an ornate robe of silver and beige, and a tiara on her head made of wires and shining gems. She had filled out her figure, and she lost any traces of childhood in her features. Thin lines showed in her forehead, and Puck saw creases around her mouth and eyes that hadn't been there four years ago. Lines of worry, anxiety.

"Meghan," Puck said again, and he stumbled as he stepped toward her. His brain had abandoned him. He could only see Meghan, watching him with her arms wrapped around herself.

Robin's heart shattered when she took a step away from him, her back against the wall. "Robbie," she repeated, her lower lip quivering. "You're dead."

A few rebel tears made his vision blur. "I'm sorry," he said, a smile morphed by pain and sorrow appearing on his face. "I couldn't help it."

Meghan stood there, huddled against the wall and at a loss for words. Robin wanted to say so much, everything that had been stolen from him when he died. "Meghan, I-"

"My love." Ash glided into Puck's vision, wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders and pressing her to him. Puck swallowed, and pain drummed through his body as he watched Meghan melt into the embrace, ducking her head into the crook of Ash's arm. "Goodfellow was coming to stay for a while. I told you, remember?" Meghan nodded, her gaze moving to the floor and away from the trickster. "I was just about to...give him a tour of the building. Perhaps you could come with us."

Meghan nodded again. Ash kissed her forehead and ushered her out the door. "Me and Puck will be out in a moment. Just wait there." Stepping back into the room, Ash met Robin's eyes, who stood in shocked silence.

Puck spoke first. "She hates me," he whispered.

"No, Goodfellow, she doesn't." Ash swallowed. "Puck, the years of war and running a kingdom have taken a toll on her. She's not...she's not the same person she was. You just surprised her."

"Hell of a surprise," Robin said, the shock fading. His heart still hurt, and he struggled to put up a façade of cool indifference. "It's not going to be the same, is it."

Ash heard the statement, not the question. "No," he sighed. "It's not." Laying a hand on the trickster's shoulder, he pulled him to the door. "I wanted to show you how much has changed. I...couldn't think of a better way to demonstrate it."

Puck raised his chin, his face void of emotion. "No, I see," he said, voice numb. "I see perfectly."

Robin shook his arm free of Ash's grasp, and left the sitting room.

* * *

><p>The trickster had returned to his bedroom, and now lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts ran through his head.<p>

_She's afraid of you, now. You're not friends anymore. You lost the chance to love her a long time ago, and now you live in different worlds. Different worlds, different times, with different people. You don't even know her now, and she's forgotten you. Ash got to live with her, to go through life beside her and take your place. But she fell in love with him, and that's something you never accomplished._

Puck rolled on his side. Why even bother staying? Why not go back to the dryads, and be with people who actually knew him and cared about him?

_But that's just like you, isn't it Robin? You run away whenever things get too hard._

"What am I supposed to do?" Puck asked the air. He stared out the window, watching the illusionary trees sway in the fake wind.

_...Tell her you love her. If nothing else, if you want to leave and never come back, then just tell her that._

Robin sat up on the bed, the idea piquing his interest. "I could," he muttered, scratching his chin. "I-"

Puck stopped mid-sentence when the earth vibrated beneath his feet. He heard the walls crack and the furniture shake, and he clapped his hands over his ears as a ground-shattering explosion went off. Chunks of ceiling and dust fell to the floor, and he heard things shatter. Shouting echoed in the halls, and his heart began to race. Robin tumbled off the mattress and crawled under the bed as his mind raced, wondering what was happening. _It sounds like bombs going off_, he thought. _But why would bombs be going off? And especially during my emotional crisis!  
><em>

The explosions dulled and moved farther away, and soon Puck dared to climb out from under the bed. His limbs felt like jelly from the vibrations, and he slipped the knife from his boot. He crept to the door of his room, and he jerked when someone began violently knocking on it. "Goodfellow!" someone shouted. "Are you in there?"

Robin swallowed. "Depends," he shouted back, gripping his dagger tighter. "who's asking?"

"Soldiers of the Iron Army, sir! We're here to protect you!"

Puck took a breath and threw open the door. A group of a half-dozen people in military clothing stood outside, holding various guns and other weapons. "Thank Christ you're alive," one of them breathed. "We need to get you out of here."

Before Robin could speak, the group absorbed him, surrounding him and urging him to the far wall as they traveled down the hallways. "What's going on?" Puck asked, his eyes wide. "Party gone bad?"

"...Yes, sir." the man cleared his throat. "It's a rebel invasion."

_Well, shit. _"What rebels-" Robin's sentence got interrupted when another explosion went off, this one too close for comfort.

A chunk of the wall blew open, and pieces of debris slammed a few of the soldiers against the wall, leaving a bloody smear. Puck's stomach churned, and a female voice cried, "Run!"

The soldiers and trickster ran faster, rounding a corner to come face to face with another group of people carrying guns. Robin saw they weren't wearing Iron Army uniforms, but then they opened fire and someone shoved him to the floor. Puck crawled back around the corner, and screams filled his ears as blood splattered his clothes and the world around him. A body fell on him, and hot blood oozed into his shirt. The trickster choked and tossed the dying man off him, pulling back and rounding the corner. Another explosion went off, and he threw his hands over his ears.

When the noise abated, he looked around and saw an empty corridor. He examined the bodies, and found all were dead but one. A woman, clutching her side with one hand and gripping a pistol with the other. "I'm fine," she hissed. "We have to get you out of here."

"Let me help." Robin helped the woman to her feet, and threw her weapon arm over his shoulder. They staggered down the hall, the female fey directing the trickster with weak gestures of her gun.

When they neared their destination, another explosion went off. A scream split the air, and Robin and the woman fell to the ground. Puck heard the soldier gasp and her fingers dig into his shoulder when her wounded side hit the ground. Debris fell around them, the once beautiful Summer wing turning to dust and ruins. Robin and the woman stood up and kept walking.

In the next hallway, they saw where the explosion had hit. Bodies lay in piles against the walls, and Puck saw a shaking, female torso crowded over one of the corpses. Robin recognized the sobs as Meghan's, and he raced to reach the woman as fast as possible. "Meghan," he shouted, struggling to be heard over the sounds of explosions and gunfire. "You have to leave!"

"No!" Meghan cried, and Robin saw the body she hunched over. Ash lay on the floor, eyes glassy while blood leaked from his head. It looked like a piece of debris had caught him on the side of the head, leaving a bloody mass of bone, blood and hair. "I won't leave him!"

"You have to!" Another explosion went off, making the ground shake. "You'll die!"

Meghan turned to look at the trickster, and Puck saw her eyes were filled with tears, her skin blanched and her hands shaking. "I won't leave him," she said again.

"She's not well," the female soldier grunted, and Robin turned back to see her detach from his arm to stand on her own feet. "Carry her, we're not far."

Lacking another option, Puck pulled Meghan into his arms with a grunt, and followed the woman down the hallway. Meghan began to fight him, kicking and screaming. "Ash!" she howled, her voice choked from sobbing. "_Ash!_"

By now, they had left the Summer wing and were traveling through the Iron section of the building, with metal walls and floors. A painful headache blossomed in Robin's skull, and his vision grew dim as he struggled for breath. The trio went as fast as they could until they reached a door protected by a retina and hand print scanner. Robin grabbed Meghan and forced her up to the device while she wailed.

Through the door they found another, even narrower hallway. While they walked through, the atmosphere grew hot and thick, and Robin fought to stay conscious and keep a hold on Meghan at the same time. At the end of the hallway was a large, circular room, with a pool of water in the center that contained a submarine. The trio hobbled towards the sub, going across a walkway to stand in front of the entry hatch. The trickster gasped for breath. "Is this it?"

The woman grimaced, clutching her side even as blood dripped through her fingers. "It is," she replied. "A secret escape route. Help me get her Majesty inside."

The soldier opened the hatch and the pair threw Meghan inside. When the female fey turned back to Puck, the trickster shook his head."I can't go inside that thing. It'll kill me," Robin said, chest heaving. " And I'm going to pass out any minute. You'd just be wasting time."

The woman frowned and opened her mouth to argue but Robin didn't hear any more, his body shutting down. Darkness taking his vision, Puck collapsed to the ground.


	5. Chapter Five

Robin forced heavy eyelids open, his skin covered in a thick layer of sweat. Gentle hands pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, and Puck let out an exhausted sigh. "Have I died? Am I in heaven?" Robin's eyes focused on the woman sitting on the side of his bed, taking in her appearance for the first time. She had a buzz-cut of black hair, gray skin and electric blue eyes that sparked in the light. Her face wore sharp, pointed features, and her eyes held a certain dignity in them.

"Not quite." At the sound of her voice, Puck recognized her as the female soldier.

"Damn. Now where will I get my dozen virgins and massive feasts?" A grin spread across the trickster's face. "I don't think I ever learned your name."

"Capala," the woman replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Capala. Great. I'm Robin. Robin Goodfellow. You may have heard of me." Puck gave her his most charming smile, his eyes sparkling.

The corners of the iron fey's lips twitched. "The name rings a bell, yes." The almost-smile vanished. "Do you feel well?"

"Well as I can imagine, having just escaped a 'rebel' invasion and being locked inside a...a what, exactly?" Puck looked around his room. He sat on a cot in a small room, with a large window on the far wall that looked out into darkness. Blankets covered the metal walls and floors, and plants occupied every available space. "Why does my room look like a shitty greenhouse?"

"You're in the submarine. I dragged you in here, and did what I could to make the place more comfortable." Capala's eyes flickered to Robin's arms, or rather, the burns covering them. "I apologize. I tried not to let you touch the metal too much."

"It's fine, I guess. I've had worse." Robin rubbed the delicate skin and sucked air in through his teeth. "So, rebel invasion? Explosions? Murder-death?"

Capala pursed her lips. "It's a bit of a long story."

"I think I'm going to be here a while," Puck grinned.

The woman nodded and began to speak. "Some time ago, the crown received several death threats from unknown political resistance groups, who demanded that she give up her throne or face persecution. In response, the Iron Court upped the Queen's personal security and made a public announcement saying that the Queen had no plans to step down, and was devoted to protecting her people against this new menace.

"However, the crown did build a secret escape route for the Queen and Prince Consort, should the need arise. We weren't expecting an invasion, nor were we prepared for one, but it's lucky we managed to get out alive."

"Most of us, anyway," Puck murmured. A troubling thought occurred to him. "Where's Meghan?"

The iron fey tensed, her lips pursing. "She's...holed up in one of the rooms. I haven't been able to get her to come out."

"Uh huh." Robin released a reluctant sigh. At least she was alive. Traumatized, but alive.

Looking out the window, Puck stared into the impenetrable darkness. The sub traveled through the water, making waves thud against the glass and a sound like a heartbeat vibrate through the room. The officer stood from the bed, clearing her throat and stepping to the door. "I'll leave you alone," she said. "If you need anything, just shout. The sub's not that big."

"Aye aye, Captain," Robin grinned, watching the woman turn away and step to the door. As she moved, the hem of her shirt lifted and Puck saw bandages wrapped around her middle, crimson stains blossoming from a single point around her hip. "Did you do that?"

Capala stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "Do what?"

"Bandage yourself."

She spared a glance to her hip before giving the trickster a questioning look. "Yes. Why?"

"Just seems kind of badass, under the circumstances."

A pleased smile appeared on the woman's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived. "You should get some rest." With that, she shut and locked the door, leaving Puck alone in his room.

The next hours passed slowly, with Robin not hearing anything from either Capala or Meghan. Most of the time he slept, and when he awoke there would be fresh food and water by his bedside. The headache never ceased and he sometimes struggled to breathe around the iron. Puck forced himself to sleep, to power through the long hours of boredom and suffering.

It startled him, of course, when Capala came and woke him up. "Good evening, Goodfellow. It seems we've arrived."

Sitting up, Robin grimaced as his head throbbed. "Feel free to call me Puck," he grunted, coming to his feet. "We're all friends here."

"I would think us more friendly acquaintances, strangers brought together during extreme adversity," Capala quipped, hooking one of the trickster's arms over her shoulders.

"How theatrical of you, Captain." The iron fey ignored him. They staggered out the door and out of the sub, forcing them both to squint from the sudden change in light.

When their eyes adjusted, Robin saw they had emerged in a swimming pool. "What."

"Don't ask me, Goodfellow. I didn't choose this - the sub was on autopilot."

"...What." The submarine filled the pool nearly wall to wall, the metal scraping the blue tiles of the pool edges. They stood inside a motel complex, where the pool sat in full view of the sun. On each side of them lay a vast expanse of desert, with few pieces of plant life to speak of. A single, two-lane road stretched out in from of the motel, and no cars could be seen for miles. "Where are we?"

"New Mexico," came Meghan's voice from outside his peripheral vision. Robin pulled away from Capala and saw Meghan, her arms wrapped around her waist as she stared off into the sky.

"Meghan." Puck came to Meghan's side, one hand brushing her shoulder. The woman pulled away, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as she did so. "Are you okay?"

"...I'm fine." Meghan refused to make eye contact, now staring at the floor.

Capala coughed, drawing the pair's attention. "Your Majesty, I defer to your better judgement. Where should we go from here?" Capala sounded calm, collected. Her expression betrayed no emotion, and she looked every inch the respectful and obedient soldier.

Meghan swallowed. "The desert," she murmured. "There's a safehouse in the desert. We should go there."

Robin forced himself not to reach out and touch Meghan again, longing to hold her close and bury his face in her hair, to whisper to her that everything would be all right. He shook his head, coughed, and looked back to Capala. "So, what about the whole, 'submarine in hotel pool thing?'"

Capitals shrugged. "What do you expect me to do? Just pick the entire thing up, straight out of the trod and the pool, and set it on the side of the road?"

Puck smirked. "If you think that could work, sure."

"Enough." Meghan's voice cracked. "Lets just get moving."

* * *

><p>After a few hours walk, Puck regretted his decision. "Are you sure we're getting there?" he asked, stopping to bend over and take a breath. Meghan didn't reply, continuing to trudge through the sand towards some unknown point in the desert. Robin grunted and forced himself up, struggling to keep walking. Capala appeared at his side, a hand outstretched. "I'm fine," Puck insisted.<p>

"No, you're not." Capala frowned. "Your Majesty!"

Meghan finally halted and turned back to the pair waiting a good distance behind her. "What is it?"

"If you'll allow me, I may be able to get us something to drink."

Meghan hobbled back, her face pale and sweaty. "Then do so."

Capala nodded and walked to a nearby cactus. Meghan and Puck watched as she produced a large knife from inside her military vest, having ditched her officer's jacket long ago, and chopped the cactus in half. Robin's mouth fell open, and Meghan collapsed on the dusty ground. The inside of the plant had glistening droplets of liquid inside, and if Puck's mouth had not dried out long ago, he would have drooled.

Dicing the plant into neat cubes, she distributed pieces to each of her companions. Upon receiving the moist chunks of plant, Robin dug in. It had a mushy consistency, but a nice sweetness to it, and the precious liquid made his headache clear and his scratchy throat go away. "I support that," Puck said, when he finished. "One hundred percent. We should do that again sometime."

Meghan nodded, rivulets of cactus juice dribbling down her chin. "Good work, Capala."

The soldier bowed her head. "Just doing my duty, Your Majesty." She paused. "There's quite a few more plants down the road here, so we can continue eating those. However, I don't know how long it's going to take us to reach our destination."

Robin wiped his sweaty cheek with his sleeve, the desert heat too much for even his natural Seelie resistance to withstand. He looked out towards the horizon. "It's going to get dark soon," he said.

Capala turned to see the sun hover above the line between the sand and the sky, its bright yellow dimmed to a powerful orange. "Dark and cold," she murmured. "We should make camp."

"How?" Meghan raised her head. "We have no beds, no way to make fire-"

"I can make fire," Puck protested, waving a hand. "Faery fire. Glowy shit. It'll be grand."

"Yes, you could," Capala said, "if you wanted to leave a glamour trail for the rebels to follow. Not to mention giving anyone for miles around, fey or mortal, a clear signal to come and attack us."

"Pfft. You worry too much, Captain."

"Do I? I'm responsible for your safety, and the safety of my Queen. There is no such thing as 'worrying too much.'"

"_Au contraire, on ami_. I present to you, Exhibit A-"

"Enough." Meghan stood up, making the other fey fall silent. "There."

Everyone turned to look where Meghan pointed, and out in the distance, a faint speck of a building hunched over the sand. From this angle, with the sun setting just the right way, sunlight glanced off a piece of metal on the desert-colored house and revealed it to passerby. "What's that?" Robin said, voice barely above a whisper.

"The safehouse." The Iron Queen began to run, sprinting across the desert as fast as her spindly legs would allow. Sharing a glance, Puck and Capala chased after her.


	6. Chapter Six

Darting inside the faded, beige-colored building, they shut the door behind them and locked it. Slumping against the wizened wood, Robin and Capala stopped to catch their breath. "Christ, Meghan," Puck wheezed. "I didn't know you could run that fast."

"I jogged a lot, back home." Meghan murmured. "It's...relaxing."

Pity and worry jolted through Robin's heart, but he ignored it in favor of observing the building. Dark woods and light cream made up the floors and walls, and the furniture matched the color scheme. Beaded decorations and mirrors acted as decor, and a hallway off to the side looked like it led to bathrooms and bedrooms. A door in the back had a large padlock attached to the handle.

Meghan frowned as she peeked into the kitchen and looked around the living room. "There's no electronics."

"There's also no signals to trace, my Queen," Capala said, her breathing heavy. "No gadgets, and no glamour."

Robin grinned down at Capala. "What? Is Captain a little out of shape?"

Capala frowned. "Of course not. Going some a leisurely stroll to a full-on sprint just takes its toll." She paused, glancing over at the trickster. Puck's face glowed red, and sweat dripped off the end of his nose. "Besides, you're one to talk."

"Ah," Robin replied, stepping over to fall into a nearby couch. "But I have an excuse. I've been dead for four years."

The officer nodded. "Fair enough."

Meghan, having been staring at a wall for the past few seconds, collected herself and returned to the moment. She settled down in the nearest armchair, trembling fingers curled into the fabric of her robe. She still hadn't changed from the royal garment she'd worn when they'd escaped, the clothing now stained and torn. "Where do we go now?" she asked, her eyes wide as she looked at the pair before her.

Lacking an answer, Puck looked to Capala. The woman let her eyes fall shut, her shoulders slumping for a moment as a quiet sigh escaped her. For a moment, Robin could see exhaustion, fear, and the burden of authority resting on her shoulders. But her expression changed quickly, and she returned to her normal stance. Chin raised, eyes intense and determined, and proud shoulders held back. "We'll stay here," she said, her tone decisive. "At least for a little while. We can regroup. The general is looking for us as well, and he may search for us here."

"Agreed," Meghan murmured. She stood from her seat, wiping her eyes with one hand. "I'm tired. I'm going to have a nap."

"As you wish, my queen." Capala stepped aside and bowed as Meghan walked down the hallway, vanishing around the corner and entering an unseen room. A door shut, locked, and the house fell silent.

Puck's eyes flickered to Capala's hip. A streak of red oozed through the bandages. "You're bleeding."

Capala glanced at her injury. "It must have been the running," she muttered, sucking air in through her teeth as she pressed her fingers against the bloody wrappings. "It irritated the wound."

"Let me help." Puck stood and began to search for medical supplies, taking the change to check the rest of the house. Three (small) bedrooms, a bathroom or two, a dining room, a kitchen, and a few storage closets. _Modest_ would be putting it nicely.

Avoiding Meghan's room, he soon found some towels, a sewing kit and a first aid kit. After making his preparations, he walked back out to the front room, where Capala had taken a seat on one of the sofas. Robin knelt beside her, laying the towels at her side to absorb any mess. Capala's eyes fell shut as he undid the bindings, her lips pursed and her breathing steady. Puck removed the wrappings delicately, setting them aside then cleaning around the wound with a damp cloth.

His eyes flickered up to Capala. "It went straight through, so that's something."

Capala snorted, the corners of her lips turning up. "Small victories."

"Here." Robin handed the woman a tightly wound ball of fabric. "Bite down on that if you need to."

The fey sniffed, raising her chin. "I don't need it."

"Better that than your own tongue." Puck cocked his head to the side. "But if you _want _to become a mute, that's your choice...I guess..."

"Oh, just give me the damn thing." Capala snatched the ball from his hand and stuffed it in her mouth, glowering as she did so.

Robin bit back a retort and threaded the needle he'd sterilized. He gave the officer a quiet warning before piercing her skin, his stomach churning as he sewed the bits of flesh together. Capala clamped her jaw shut, her teeth grinding against the fabric as she struggled to stifle involuntary whimpers. Her hands balled into fists, knuckles white as she dug her nails into the arm of the couch. Puck went as fast as he could, while being as precise as possible. After a few short, painful minutes, Puck finished.

"There, now. That wasn't so bad, was it Captain?"

Capala's eyes flashed, and she spat the cloth out. She took a few, hungry breaths before meeting the trickster's gaze. "No, not at all," she snapped, her tone thick with sarcasm. "I absolutely adore having my stomach sown together. The pain, the bleeding, the slow suffering as a needle and string goes through your skin - I live for that shit."

Robin grinned. "And I thought you didn't have a sense of humor." Capala sighed and collapsed back against the sofa. The trickster chuckled and bound the wound once more. Once done, he tossed the used towels and bandages into a bucket and set it near the front door.

"That's where we're putting it?" Capala asked.

Puck shrugged. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Captain. You should get some rest." He grinned. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

><p>The next day, Robin awoke to gentle humming wafting in through the door. He sat up on the bed and stretched, running a hand through sleep-tangled hair. His muscles felt tight and sore. Ignoring his aching limbs, he stood and walked towards the source of the sound.<p>

In the kitchen, Capala leaned against the counters and stared out at the morning sun as it cast long shadows across the desert plains. She held a steaming mug in one hand, the string of a teabag dangling off the rim. Her soft music reverberated through the room, the melody both sad and sweet. Puck silently approached. Her humming turned to singing, and strange words fell from Capala's lips as she sang in a language Robin didn't recognize.

The song ended, and the silence seemed worse by the loss of the music. Capala's head bowed. She spoke in a low voice. "Cup of tea, Goodfellow?"

Puck swallowed. "Sure."

From the kitchen doorway he watched as she got out a cup and poured water into it from a still-steaming kettle. "Any special requests?" she murmured.

"No." Capala placed a teabag into the cup and began to stir a dash of sugar into the mix. "I'm not much of a tea drinker. I don't know what to expect."

She didn't reply. Stirring the tea with an absent hand, thick and awkward silence descended on them. After a few long minutes, Capala turned away and looked at him for the first time. "I didn't make it too strong, and I added some sugar."

"Much appreciated, Captain." He took the cup from her and sniffed the light brown liquid.

"I wouldn't drink it if I were you," Capala said. "Give it a minute to cool off."

"If you say so." He paused. "So, um..."

The woman sighed. "Just ask me a question if you're going to ask me a question. Don't beat about the bush."

Puck took a moment before speaking. "I didn't know you could sing."

"...It's not something I usually do. In front of people. I prefer to keep it private."

"Few fey, let alone mortals can sing like that. Where did you learn to...?"

Capala released a brief, bitter chuckle. "A compliment from Robin Goodfellow. Well, that's it. I give up. It's all downhill from here."

"I mean it, Cap. Where did you-"

They both stopped as soft wailing echoed from the hallway. Turning their ears to the sound, the pair stood frozen as a door opened, feet creaked across the floorboards, and Meghan muttered to herself as she lurched through the hall. "She does that."

"Does what?" Puck turned back to the Iron officer.

"Goes from her bedroom to the bathroom while talking to herself." Capala's shoulders slumped, and she took a sip of her tea. "All hours of the night, back and forth, back and forth. I never know what she's saying, but she's always talking."

"Is she sleepwalking?"

The woman bit her lower lip. "I don't think so. No."

Robin sighed. Meghan seemed to him, now, as almost a foreign creature. Something strange and unknown, that both frightened him and drew him in. Poetry aside, she worried him. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked, the question aimed less at Capala but rather at the air around them.

"The best we can," the officer murmured in reply. "I am sworn to her safety and protection as a military officer. I must do whatever it takes to protect her." Something lingered under Capala's tone, something dangerous. Puck wanted to ask about it, but the moment passed. "At least until the general comes for us."

"And god knows when that'll be," Puck muttered. He sipped his tea, the liquid cooled from burning to pleasantly warm. "It's our job to protect her."

"No, it's not," Capala said. Robin raised an eyebrow. "If you wanted to, you could leave. Go find a trod, run back to the Seelie Court and forget about us. I can handle it, and you have no obligation to be here."

A moment passed. Puck swallowed. "You must not know me very well, then," he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. "I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to. I have to protect Meghan."

"Then maybe we should work together." Their gaze met, and Puck saw Capala's expression had softened. Her eyes held warmth and understanding, instead of her normal guarded and emotionless look.

"Maybe we should," Robin said with a smile.

For the next week and a half, the trickster and the soldier gathered in the kitchen for tea every morning. They would sit together and have aimless conversations, comparing memories or battles and occasionally battle scars. Robin would recall memories of Meghan as a child, and Capala would listen quietly, her eyes sparkling. Her strange, lop-sided smile became more and more common in the passing days.

But she hid things from him. Conversations she refused to finish, subtle topic changes, and a convenient interruption when she grew uncomfortable. One of these things was her music. Puck could often hear her muted voice through the walls at night before they slept; but she never outright sang. Not after their first morning tea.


	7. Chapter Seven

"Dammit, stop moving! Your hip has a bullet hole in it, you're not allowed to be that quick!"

Capala smirked. "Maybe you're just feeling your age, old man."

The afternoon sun shone down on the pair, sweat streaming down their cheeks as they clashed blades. Capala had agreed to a knife fight, since they both lacked another weapon and her hip made her unable to brawl, as she had first suggested. The bet had come about after a particularly heated comparison of fighting ability. One thing led to another, and now Robin had to beat the Iron officer or face dressing up "like the girl he was," or so Capala said.

"Maybe you're a cheater," Puck growled. "We agreed this was a no glamour fight!"

Her smirk grew wider. "And it is. You just suck."

"Oh, such witty comebacks," Robin snapped. He swiped at her, but his blade missed the side of her ribs by a mere inch. He swore.

Capala danced around him, bouncing on the balls of her feet as he swung at her. His strikes grew more and more wild each time he missed. "The only warriors who need a sense of humor are the losing ones." She caught him under the knee with her foot, sweeping his leg and driving him to the ground.

Puck grunted, the air knocked from his lungs. Summoning his strength, he rolled to the side and missed a blade sinking into the ground where his skull had been. He rolled up on his feet, holding the edge of the blade opposite his wrist and falling into a defensive position.

Capala's bright blue eyes gleamed. "Seems I have you on the run, trickster," she said, her voice low and gutteral. "Admit defeat, before it's too late."

Robin scoffed. "Never," he said with a grin. "I'm just giving you false hope. You haven't seen everything I can do yet."

"Then please, enlighten me." She rushed him, their blades connecting and sending a shower of sparks to the desert floor. Puck felt her limbs crash into his, the force sending him off balance. He struggled to pull back. Her dagger locked him out, both blades stuck between their bodies as Capala's free hand fought for a grip around his neck.

He knelt into her grip and waited until her elbow pressed into the back of his skull. Then he braced his shoulder into her stomach and lifted her up, enjoying the surprised whimper as she lifted off the ground. With a grunt, Robin turned and dropped Capala on the ground. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make her feel it. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open. Her dagger sat, useless, several feet away, dropped in her surprise.

"Consider yourself enlightened," Puck smirked. He pinned his foot on her good hip and made as if to toss his knife through her skull when she twisted, making his ankle cry out. He stumbled, and she took the opportunity to lock her legs around his shins, making him fall to the ground. "Bitch!" he shouted, his mouth filling with dry dirt.

Capala laughed. "Who's got the witty comebacks now, jester?" Her fingers sank into his hair and he felt her sit on his back, her legs wrapped around his middle as she pinned him. Cold steel hovered near his neck, making the skin burn. "Give up?"

Robin grunted. "Get off me."

"Not until you admit I won," she insisted, pulling on his hair. "I want to cross this off my bucket list."

Puck groaned. "It was a good fight."

"And?"

"And you did well."

"And?"

"You know, I _have _been dead for four years..."

Capala growled and got off him, brushing herself off and sliding her dagger into the sheath on her leg. "You shouldn't be allowed to have that trump card. Besides, I'm wounded. We're about equal."

Robin snorted. "You're almost completely healed. That doesn't count."

"Fine." Capala wiped droplets of sweat from her forehead. "Should we go inside?"

"Probably."

A minute or so passed as they got their breath back. Puck watched as Capala's face lost it's warmth and excitement, replaced by creases of stress around her lips and eyes. "I haven't seen Meghan in a while," she murmured, brow furrowed. "We should go check on her. It's not right that we're ignoring her."

"We're not ignoring her," Robin protested, guilt gnawing at his conscience. "She just...doesn't want to talk to us. All she does is stay cooped up in her room."

"Doesn't matter," Capala replied, eyes darkening. "It's our job to protect her."

Puck lowered his gaze. "I guess you're right." With a sigh, he came to her side as they began walking back to the house. "Still, though. Made you work for it, didn't I."

Capala snorted. "Barely. I could have won, but I was worried about the Iron in my blade."

"Lies. Don't act like I was all easy and shit. You know you had to fight for that victory."

"Ah!" Capala grinned. "So you admit it was a victory."

Robin paused. "I...victory is a strong word, I mean-"

They stopped.

Glamour filled the house. At any other time, neither fey would have noticed it, but they had gone over a week without purposefully using any glamour. Now, the sudden influx felt strange and cold. "What's going on?" Puck whispered, drawing the dagger from his boot.

"I don't know." Capala already had the blade in her hand. Her expression turned to ice, and her eyes went from window to mirrors, revealing nothing and absorbing everything. She crouched down and slunk across the walls, following the glamour by feeling alone. They crept to the other side of the house, arriving at the wall with the door that had a padlock on the handle. "Robin," she whispered. "Do you know what's behind this door?"

"No," the trickster replied, goosebumps rising on his skin. "I never...paid it much attention."

Capala stretched out a hand and took the padlock. It swung off the door. "Well, it's unlocked." She dropped the padlock and opened the door, stepping into the darkness waiting on the other side.

Puck swallowed and conjured a ball of light that hovered over their heads, illuminating the narrow stairwell leading down. "No point in keeping under the radar any more," he said when Capala snapped at him. "Our cover's already blown."

"Don't remind me," the woman muttered. The wooden stairs beneath their feet creaked as they descended through the black. As they reached the end of the tunnel, blood thundering in their ears, they saw eerie florescent light at the end of the stairwell. Robin extinguished the light, and they slowed their pace until they stood at the edge of the doorway, listening.

"What if I gave you half of it?" Meghan's voice rang out through the room, her voice sounding raw as if she had just been crying. A voice came through an unseen speaker, morphed by static and inaudible. "I just want to see Ash again. Whatever that takes."

Puck and Capala glanced at each other, their eyes wide with shock and fear. Robin made as if to step into the room, but Capala frowned and shook her head. She cupped one hand behind her ear, gesturing to keep listening. The static voice spoke again. Meghan replied. "What do you mean, I'm out of time? I've given you everything you asked for! What more do you want from me?" Beat. "Hello? _Hello_?"

A few heavy seconds passed. Puck couldn't take it any more. "Meghan?" He stepped through the doorway and got to see the mysterious room. No more than a dirt basement, it had a lone fluorescent light hanging overhead and Meghan hunched over a desk that supported a radio and computer. The Iron Queen whirled around in her faded office chair to face him, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her face looked wan and sickly in the light.

"Robbie," she whispered, her lips dry and cracked. "I'm so sorry."

Robin's eyes widened. "Princess," he said slowly, "what did you do?"

The sound of marching boots above them and Meghan's sad eyes made his heart stop. Capala finally jumped in, whirling the corner and grabbing Puck's arm. "We have to go," she announced. "They're coming."

"Who?" Dust dropped from the ceiling as the marching footsteps grew closer. The faint humming of a truck or car made the hanging light flicker.

"I don't know." Capala eyes shone and her growing hair fell in her face, making her look wild and dangerous. She still held her dagger with her free hand. Puck swallowed.

"We have to go. Meghan," he said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her from her chair. "get up."

Meghan wailed and fell limp, crying in earnest now. She threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shirt. "Now is not the time," Capala growled, pulling the queen away and dragging her along as the soldier vaulted up the stairs. Robin followed suit. They arrived at the top of the staircase much faster than they had gone down, or so it seemed to Puck. Falling to the floor, Capala curled up into a ball and dragged Meghan down with her. "You hold her," Capala said with disgust, tossing the woman to Robin.

Puck swallowed and forced himself to soothe her while Capala observed their surroundings. They could hear the rumble of various vehicles outside, and the marching of heavy feet grew ever closer. "Cap," Robin said, drawing the soldiers attention. "Do you have your gun?"

The woman shook her head. "It's in my room. I don't want to make a break for it now."

"Then what are we supposed to do?!"

"_I don't know!_" Capala's threw her hands in the air and shouted, her eyes wide with anger and desperation. Puck closed his mouth and pulled Meghan tighter around him.

The rumbles and marching stopped. For a few long seconds, the world was covered in sudden and heavy silence. The lone pair of footsteps that then crossed the desert floor seemed unbearably loud. "You have your orders!" cried a single, male voice. "Leave no one alive!"

The marching began again, a cold and efficient drumming that matched Puck's racing heartbeat. "_What do we do?!" _he hissed.

Capala swallowed. "Get ready."


	8. Chapter Eight

Capala stood and ran to the den, even as booted feet began breaking windows and kicking down the front door. She started pushing furniture over, creating a makeshift barricade of sofas and end tables, a layer of glamour placed over it all. Puck, one hand clasped over Meghan's mouth, joined her in the barricade. "This is your plan?" he shouted. "We don't know how many people there are out there. There's no way we can kill them all!"

"Yeah? Then what's your plan?" Capala shouted back, her shoulders thrown back and her eyes wild and defiant. "If there really are too many of them, we're going to die anyway. But maybe we can take them. Maybe we can win. Either way, I want to go down fighting!"

Robin blinked. "Fair enough."

They stacked their barricade as high at they could, the pile of cushions and ornate furniture mere feet away from the front door, where their adversaries pounded through the wood. Soon, too soon, the door splintered and fell. A fey soldier stepped through and fired at them.

Capala cast a rush of glamour at him, making the gun fold in on itself. The bullet whizzed past her ear and she pulled it back in one smooth motion, throwing it back at the attacker. He staggered as it slammed into his shoulder, and with a word from Capala, his gun exploded in his hands. He howled and fell to the ground, and two soldiers took his place.

Robin spoke under his breath and copies of himself appeared around the room. They lunged at the two soldiers, bursting into dust when bullets passed through them. With ease the remaining copy cut their throats and wrists before dissipating. The guns rose and flew to Capala, who waited with an outstretched hand. Checking the ammo and aiming for the front door, she waited. When no one came through, Capala and Puck shared a nervous glance.

Then, the chilling whistle of an explosive sang in their air, giving them only a second to brace themselves before an explosion rattled the front door. The ceiling cracked and a cloud of dust fell on them. "It sounds like a mortar!" Capala shouted, struggling to be heard over their still-ringing ears. "I don't know how long this house is going to hold!"

"We can't camp out here!" Puck replied. "We have to make for the desert. It's our only chance!"

Capala nodded and fired at the doorway and broken windows. Gun barrels appeared in the windows and fired at the pair, holes appearing in their furniture barricade as she ducked back into cover. Another mortar landed at the back of the house, making the building creak and the walls start to crumble. "How do we do that?"

Robin paused. "Cover me."

Capala pursed her lips and nodded. Another mortar landed nearby and another round of gunfire came from the front of the house. They began kicking the front wall down, and through all the noise Puck willed himself to concentrate.

_Focus, Goodfellow. Focus or die._ He let his eyes fall shut and took hold of his glamour, wrapping it around him. It absorbed into his skin, and he felt his body morphing. His nose and lips grew hard and pointed, his hair turning thick and ridged, his limbs stretching and pulling the skin as his bones lengthened and twisted.

It took a good ten seconds before everything fell into place. Then, where once a humanoid trickster sat curled up in a ball, stood a bright red bird, a huge and majestic creature. Capala stared at him, her mouth agape. Few people ever saw him change shape, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Bird-Puck turned to look at the woman, his green eyes sparkling with mischief at her shocked expression. Another mortar shell landing in their front yard drew them back to reality.

Robin knelt and spread his wings, gesturing with one claw for Capala to sit. The woman closed her mouth and her eyes gleamed. She grabbed Meghan, who had gone limp and lifeless, and put her astride Puck. Sitting behind her, one arm around Meghan's waist and the other clutching a gun, Capala kept her legs tight around Robin's middle, bracing herself.

The ginger bird displayed a very human grin, and he spread his wings as far as they could go_. _One last mortal shell landed on the front wall, and it crumbled. On the other side waited a firing squad of soldiers.

Puck flew.

He charged at the soldiers, making them shout and fire wildly. Capala used a great deal of strength and conjured a brief shield around them as every soldier in the vicinity shot at them, countless bullets absorbing into the invisible wall while they raced across the desert. At just the right moment, Robin caught air and swooped up into the sky, taking special care to keep his riders on as he swerved around enemy fire. He dodged past another mortar shell, and high in the sky they finally saw just what they were up against.

Black dots peppered the landscape around the house, like a black hole swallowing up their home. Trucks lingered around the edges, making clouds of desert dust rise as even more soldiers poured out of the vehicles. There was a mortar set up a good distance away, and it continued firing at them as Puck flew towards the clouds.

Capala expended all of her strength and then some trying to keep them safe. The bullets and shells Robin couldn't dodge got thrown back at their assailants, causing explosions of fire and debris to erupt from the ground and making the soldiers' screams heard even at their height. Puck felt his stomach churn. He felt Capala's legs loosen around him as she lost strength, and he pushed himself as fast as he could go to fly out into the distance.

They raced until the bullets and mortars couldn't reach them any more, and then they kept racing. Robin's lungs started to burn and his wings grew tired, crying out for rest and water. He still hadn't gotten something to drink from Capala and his exercise this morning.

Against his will, they began to drop altitude as his wings refused to keep going. He struggled to keep flying, pushing and pushing as his vision went blurry. He felt Capala's hand press on his neck, and he took that as his signal to go down. Doing his best to avoid a crash, he floated down to the floor and collapsed on the ground.

While he struggled for breath, he heard Capala's strong and determined voice barking orders. A blurry Meghan sat by his side, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring at him. The desert dust coated his lungs and he coughed up dirt. Five minutes felt like hours, and soon Capala knelt by his side, pressing something against his lips and soothing him with her voice.

Robin summoned his glamour to him and returned to his normal form, his body slick with sweat and his lips dry and cracked. He took Capala's offering and ate it greedily, recognizing the texture and flavor as cactus and eating everything he could. When he finished, he lied on the ground and breathed deep, trying to calm his racing heart.

Capala's cool hand brushed damp hair from his forehead, and Puck's vision focused enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide with concern and fear, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

Robin swallowed. "Yeah. I'm okay."

* * *

><p>The night was cold and dark. They shivered under the stars, too afraid to make a fire. The desert stretched out for miles around them, the cabin nowhere in sight. No road either.<p>

Meghan lay a feet few away, tucked into a ball as she slept. She hadn't said a word since they'd escaped. Capala and Puck sat together in the dirt, their bellies rumbling. Cactus only did so much. "Do you want to keep watch first?" Capala asked, her voice low.

Robin nodded. "Sure. You should get some sleep."

Capala nodded. Neither moved. "When are we going to talk to Meghan about this?" the woman asked.

Puck sighed. "A better question is, when is Meghan going to talk at all?"

They both turned and looked at the sleeping bundle, her breathing deep and steady. "You heard what she said," Capala murmured. "She was talking to someone. She led them here."

"But who is them?"

Capala's shoulders slumped. "I don't know." A few minutes passed in silence. She pursed her lips. "Thank you, Puck. For everything you've done."

Robin blinked. "What do you mean?"

The woman bit her lower lip. "Without you, we would never have made it out alive. I keep thinking that I tried to get rid of you, tried to send you back to the Summer Court. But if you had gone, me and Meghan would both be dead. You're a good person, Robin. I can't thank you enough."

The trickster swallowed and forced a grin. "I'm not, really. A good person. I'm just a dumbass with good luck."

Capala cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Either way, I'm glad to have you here. Good night, Puck." Robin watched her lay down and tuck her hands under her head, her body slowly relaxing until she breathed smoothly.

It had been a long time since anyone was _glad _to have him around. Tolerated him? Sure. Needed him for something? Absolutely. Owed him a favor or wanted a favor from him? All the time. But no one really _liked _him. In faeryland, no one really _liked _anyone. You had allies, not friends. Bargains, not promises. The idea of caring for someone out of the goodness of your heart was a foreign concept, not least because few fey had hearts, let alone ones with goodness in them.

_But_, Robin thought as he fell asleep, _maybe it's not such a bad idea._


	9. Chapter Nine

The next morning, the trickster felt Capala nudging him awake. "Puck, wake up," she said softly. "We have to go."

Robin groaned and sat up, his limbs stiff and sore. His eyes flew open when he smelled smoke. "What's on fire?"

Capala swallowed and pointed out to the horizon. Out in the distance, a thin line of smoke rose up into the sky. "They burned the cabin," she murmured

"Oh." Puck took her extended hand and she helped him to his feet. He saw the shadows under her eyes and saw the stiff way she moved, and knew she felt as tired as him. "Where are we going?"

"I have people down in Mexico we can talk to," Capala explained. "I think we're fairly close to the border. Just head south and I'm sure we'll find a road."

"And what about food? And water?" Robin frowned.

The soldier sighed. "I don't know, but I'm sure we'll find something."

Puck forced a grin. "How very optimistic of you." The two shared a small smile before remembering the third member of their party. The trickster's heart sped up when he saw Meghan standing a few feet away, staring out at the sky with her arms wrapped around her body. "We need to talk about this," he whispered. "

"I know," Capala said. "I just...I don't know where to begin."

Robin didn't reply. He walked over to the Iron Queen, laying a hesitant hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "Meghan. Are you ready to go?"

A few seconds passed. "Yeah," she whispered. "I'm ready."

Puck swallowed. Slowly, he pulled Meghan into a hug and held her close. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, burying her face in his chest like she had done so many times before. "What _happened_, Meghan?" he whispered, stroking her hair. "What happened to my princess?"

Her hands clenched around his shirt. "She died when you were shot, Robbie." Meghan took a deep, shaking breath. "I'm sorry. For leading them to you. I was on the radio, trying to contact Glitch, and I found their frequency. They said they had Ash, and I...I told them everything. I'm so sorry."

"...So am I." Puck released Meghan and wiped his eyes. He met the woman's gaze, her eyes red and watery. He sighed. "I can't forgive you. Not yet. But I don't hate you."

The Iron Queen nodded and swallowed. "I understand."

Capala finally walked over. Her eyes said she had heard everything, but her voice betrayed nothing. "Are we...okay?"

Meghan and Puck shared a look, then nodded. "Yes," Robin said. "We are."

"Good." The soldier took a deep breath. "Then we should get moving."

* * *

><p>By the evening of their second day on the run, Puck believed he would be perfectly content to never eat cactus again. They ate nothing but what they could scavenge in the flat, dry world of the desert, which amounted to little more than roast twigs and cactus juice. Robin longed for a glass of faery wine and an entire feast just for him.<p>

The setting sun cast long, eerie shadows across the landscape. The last flickers of sunlight illuminated the only building they'd seen for miles; a dilapidated old gas station, with a few dusty cars and trucks parked out in front. They lumbered towards it and collapsed in the shade of the front porch. Puck coughed, and he could have sworn a small cloud of dust came out his mouth.

Their natural glamour shielded them from view, and they watched several middle-aged Hispanic men pass them as they went in and out of the building, talking amongst themselves in relaxed Spanish and laughing at jokes the fey couldn't understand. Robin looked up when Capala laid her hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to grab some supplies," she murmured. "You want to come in with me or watch Meghan?"

The trickster glanced at Meghan. She seemed more alive than she had the past few days, but still not quite aware of the world around her. Her eyes had a vaguely dream-like quality about them. "I'll watch her," he replied. Capala nodded and went inside, the bell hanging above the door jingling as she did so. The man at the counter didn't seem to notice.

People went in and out of the gas station, creating a gentle breeze on the porch where Puck sat. He ran a hand through damp, sweaty hair and breathed deep. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Meghan start to doze off, her knees tucked up to her chestl and her head resting on her shoulder. Robin liked the idea of sleep. His eyelids threatened to fall shut from exhaustion when he heard Capala speak inside the building.

Puck opened his eyes and cocked his head, listening to Capala rattle off a string of spanish. _For one_, the trickster thought, _when did she l__earn to speak spanish and why didn't she tell us, and two, who is she talking to? _When his thought finished Capala fell silent, and Robin heard another male, muffled voice reply.

He stood and walked inside the building. Capala held a crate of bottled water and some food under one arm, her free hand clutching her dagger as she stared at a short Hispanic man, his body turned so he wasn't quite facing her. They both looked up on Puck's entrance. The man spoke. "Es éste uno de tus amigos?"

Capala bit her lower lip and nodded. Robin came to her side. "What's going on?" he asked, drawing his dagger. "How can he see us?"

The female soldier spoke and asked the man what seemed like a question, but the strange man only shook his head and gestured to the door. Puck and Capala shared a look, but followed him outside, abandoning the water and snacks. They rounded the corner and stopped behind the building, near the dumpsters and in full view of the boiling sun. "English?" the man said, his accent heavy. "You english me?"

Capala frowned, and a heated dialogue passed between them. Eventually, she raised a hand and a wave of glamour covered the man. "Thank you," he said, in fluent english. He had no accent.

"Okay, what's going on?" Robin said, scowling and crossing his arms. "What is this? Who is this? Why are we leaving a trail of glamour just so we can hear this guy talk?"

"I apologize, my friend," the man said. "I understand you are on the run, and I am a very suspicious man."

Puck snorted. "Glad to see we're on the same page."

The man cracked a smile. "I am Miguel. I am a border smuggler, and I can see the _duende_."

Robin frowned. "Duende?"

"My people's word for your kind. In other lands, it means _mogwai_, _elf, _or _aziza_. You may know the term faery."

"Oh. You can see us, then?"

"Yes. I am one of few. I help the _duende _when I see them, and they give me good luck in my job. I would like to offer my help."

Puck turned to Capala, who shrugged. "He is mortal, and has no reason not to help us. He offered to drive us across the border and into Mexico. From there, I can get us home."

"So you think we should accept his offer?"

"I don't see why not."

Turning back to the man, Robin stuck out his hand. "Get us to Mexico, and you will never be questioned when you pass through the border."

Miguel grinned. "Agreed." He shook hands with the trickster. "Get what you can. Mexico is several days from here, and the drive will be long."

The short man left around the corner and the pair of fey could hear him get inside one of the cars parked outside. Puck turned to Capala and raised an eyebrow. "You never told us you could speak spanish."

Capala smirked. "There's a lot I don't tell you. Come on; we should grab some supplies."

They took what they could from the gas station and hopped on the back of Miguel's truck. The old, rusted vehicle lurched into motion, and soon the gas station faded into the distance. The drive was long and hot, and Robin grew glad they had spent so much time loading crates of water onto the truck bed as they went through many bottles of water.

Meghan had needed to be woken up before climbing into the truck, and now she was asleep again. Her long blond hair had become tangled and grimy, the shining platinum strands faded and dirty. Puck and Capala sat across from each other, speaking quietly to pass the time. "So," Robin began, lacing both hands behind his head. "who exactly do you know in Mexico?" He smiled. "Hey, that rhymed."

Capala smiled briefly. "Some distant relatives," she replied.

Robin cocked his head to one side, pulling his legs close to him and trying to get comfortable in the narrow space. "You've never talked about your family before."

The woman bit her lower lip and took a moment to speak. "I don't have much of one."

Puck raised both eyebrows. "You're an orphan?"

"No more than you, Robin." She paused as Robin gave her a strange look. "We're fae. We're born from the dreams of mortals. We don't have mothers and fathers."

"The fae breed, though."

Capala scoffed. "Rarely. You know this as well as I do; all fae have extremely low fertility. Otherwise, all our orgies would end up overpopulating the faery world."

Puck laughed. "Fair enough." A few minutes passed before the conversation resumed, each listening to the tire treads against the dirt road and the running of the engine.

"So what about you?" Capala asked. "Family, friends...?"

The smile faded from the tricksters face. "Not really. Aside from Aster."

"Who's Aster?"

"An older dryad I knew, back when I first woke up. She's...she's special to me. Closest thing I've ever had to a mom."

"...I see."

An awkward silence descended upon them. In an effort to ease the tension, Robin put on a sparkling grin. "Of course, I would like to count your fabulous self as my friend, Miss Cap."

Capala rolled her eyes. "You're a terrible flirt, Robin."

Puck laughed. "I think you mean _wonderful _flirt. Come on. Don't pretend you can resist my brilliant mind and sparkling wit. Not to mention my dashing good looks."

"My standards would have to be pretty low to call you good looking, Puck."

The trickster clapped a hand to his chest. "The insults! You shred my heart with your sharp tongue, my dear Capala. How could you-"

"Shut up, both of you," Meghan grunted, stirring from her sleep to glower at the pair of fey. "I'm trying to sleep."

"My apologies, Your Highness," Capala said at once. "I didn't realize we were being so loud."

Meghan snorted. "Just flirt quieter, please." With that, she rolled over on her side and resumed her slumber.

Capala's mouth opened slightly, her eyes wide. Robin grinned. "You're a terrible flirt, Miss Cap."

The woman scowled. "Shut up, Goodfellow."


	10. Chapter Ten

Robin woke to cold darkness. He slowly sat up, rubbing his arms to try and remove the chill from his limbs when he felt Capala touch his arm. "Hush," she said. "We're crossing the border."

Puck nodded. The rumbling of the truck's engine sounded too loud in the silence of the night. On the other side of the truck bed, Robin saw Meghan shivering in the black, a thick blanket covering her small body. Capala sat by his side, her eyes wide and clear and her body tense for action.

Soon they approached the border, identified by spotlights and armed guards at the gate. A long wooden wall separated the two countries, and Puck felt his stomach churn as they grew closer to the gap between the barrier.

"I hope your magic does well," Miguel said from the front seat. "They have many guards tonight."

Capala and Robin shared a glance before wrapping a blanket of glamour tightly around the truck, muffling all sound and sight of the vehicle from mortal senses. Puck couldn't stifle a small gasp as they passed beneath the spotlights, armed guards standing within arms reach of the car and not even acknowledging it. Their guns shone in the light, dangerous and frightening.

Several painful minutes passed as they waited for the gate to fade into the night, only a distant glow left before they dropped their cover. Robin exhaled, and heard Capala do the same beside him. "That wasn't tense at all," the trickster said, forcing a smile.

Capala smiled back, and Puck saw relief and exhaustion in her eyes. "Not at all."

"I can drop you off at the nearest village," Miguel interrupted. "We will reach there by daylight. But it is a few days drive until we reach the first big city."

The female soldier checked their supplies. "We can make it to the big city," she announced. "Just keep driving."

"As you command, miss."

The next few days passed slowly, their supplies dwindling to bottled water and Doritos. Meghan either slept or brooded, reluctant to talk with either of the others. Capala and Robin sat close together, taking turns sleeping and conserving body heat in the cold nights, since Meghan took their only blanket. In his sleep, Puck would lay his arm around Capala's back, not quite touching. When Capala would sleep, her head would lay on Robin's chest as she sat in the crook of his arm, her normally hard, stoic expression one of peace and relaxation. When Capala and Robin were both awake, they would stare out into the desert around them, and the trickster would compare the soldier to one of the many prickly cacti they passed.

And then Capala would jab him in the ribs with her elbow, and Puck would laugh. Meghan would smile, and for a moment they didn't worry. They were the only ones travelling on the old, two-lane road, and they felt almost safe. During the second day, they approached a big, bustling city, and the world around them grew and grew, the buildings pushed closer and closer together.

Bright colors of reds, yellows, blues and greens painted the walls, drawing the eye to them. Everything looked old and ruined, held together by spit and wishes. People walked in woven sandals or drove massive trucks through the throngs of people who gathered in the road, walking in all directions and forcing the cars to slow their pace. Rusted, thin scooters and motorbikes whizzed through the crowds, sounding their horns to pierce the cacophony of human voices and divert people from the vehicle's path.

The glamour was overwhelming.

The sheer force of human emotion gave Robin a headache. The fear and isolation of the past few days made him extra sensitive to the glamour mortals exuded, and he knew Capala and Meghan felt it too. Miguel pulled over on the side of the road and dumped them there. "From here you can catch a plane or a car to wherever you want to go," Miguel shouted, struggling to be heard over all the noise.

"We'll be taking a different mode of transportation, but thank you," Capala replied. She smiled. "May you have good luck on your journeys!"

"And you!" Miguel turned and returned to the road. As he left, Robin took away the glamour of his english, but gave him little spell that would keep him under the radar.

"See," Capala said, when Puck turned back to her. "it all turned out for the best."

"Tell that to my headache."

Capala shook her head and smiled, even as a stranger bumped into her. "Follow me. I know where to go from here."

They maneuvered through the crowds, fighting against the human current as they marched towards Capala's supposed destination. As they walked, they saw faeries, or rather, duende, that played with the mortals. Robin saw one goblin-like creature shove a man pushing a cart, which made the cart crash into another group of men and cause a fistfight. The goblin looked on and laughed. The fae here didn't seem much different from the fae back home, Puck noted, aside from appearance.

After what felt like hours, the trio found a small, open building with faded paint and holes in the roof. As they all stepped inside, the smell of mildew and what Puck could only describe as "ass stank" filled their nostrils. Meghan gagged and turned to run back outside, but Puck grabbed her arm and gave her a napkin to hold to her nose. Capala approached the small, nervous man that sat at the front desk. The man spoke a hurried, frightened string of Spanish but Capala ignored him.

"I'm not here to play games, Alfredo," she said, her voice emotionless. The man blinked and his nervous façade vanished. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the one or two odd mortals sitting at the back of the room, talking. They scattered, disappearing into different rooms outside their sight. The glamour on the man melted, and in his place stood an even shorter, disfigured, coal black dwarf.

When the dwarf spoke, his voice had an unnerving feel to it, like a violin that plays music a bit off-key. Enough to send shivers down Robin's spine. "Ah," the dwarf said, lips spreading to reveal big, yellowed teeth. "Ms. Capala. We haven't seen you for a long time."

"It's Officer Capala now," she said, raising her chin. "I've moved up in the world."

"So you have." The dwarfs eyes flickered to Puck, then Meghan. "And now you travel in the company of the Iron Queen and the recently revived Robin Goodfellow. How interesting."

"Very." Capala cleared her throat. "We're going to use the trod. If anyone asks after us, we've never been here. And if you tell them that we have, I'll kill you."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." The dwarf grinned. "I'll let you three be on your way. But if you happen to see any children cross your path, feel free to direct them back to me."

"I'm sure I will." Capala motioned for Meghan and Robin to follow her to the far wall and through one of the doors. When the door shut behind them and cut them from the dwarfs line of sight, Robin released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "This way," Capala whispered, and she guided them through the tunnel.

"Why was he asking about children?" Puck asked, after they had walked for several minutes. "Or do I not want to know?"

"What do you think?" Capala muttered. Robin didn't ask again.

Soon they reached a large, metal door. Light shone from around the edges, and Puck felt the tell-tale burning of iron on his skin. Capala opened the door without a word, and the three fey stepped through the opening.

* * *

><p>"Why the hell are we back at the Iron Court?" Robin's jaw dropped. "Cap, did you know about this?"<p>

"Of course I did," she said. "This is my family's transportation room, with trods leading all across the globe."

"Your family must be very wealthy," Meghan murmured, eyeing the extensive wall of doors, all themed according to their destination. The door they came from smelled musty and had bright colors painted over it. Other doors smelled and looked different, with some smelling of baking bread, or smog, and others looked futuristic, or sophisticated, or rural.

Capala muttered something in response, then cleared her throat. "My relatives may be a tad surprised that their queen and the Summer Jester are in their house. We should go say hello." She paused and spared Puck a worried look. "And we need to get Robin somewhere safe as soon as possible."

"That would be nice," Puck croaked. He took a breath and tried to clear his throat. "So, following up on what Meghan said, is there anything we should know about your family, Cap?"

Capala sighed. She began to speak while they climbed a set of stairs nestled in the corner of the roon. "They're very political. My cousin governs one of the districts of the city, and her wife handles the more societal aspects, like hosting dinner parties and coordinating fundraising events. Quite the power couple."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Your cousin and _her _wife?"

Capala stopped walking for a moment. "Yes," she said, her voice half dangerous and half amused. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Course not," Puck snorted. "Just thought I'd misheard, is all."

Capala grunted and resumed her ascension. "Well, my people were created in the modern era, Robin. We have a more open view of sexuality than the other races."

"You're preaching to the choir, Cap," Robin smirked. "I'm pansexual myself."

"Really?" Meghan asked from behind him. "I never knew."

"Yeah, it's a thing when you're a shapeshifter. Hell, I could be a woman if I wanted to. I was, a couple decades back. But the whole periods thing kind of turned me off, so I'll stick with the dick for now."

"...I'm not even going to comment on this," Capala said. Puck laughed, and the conversation ended.

Soon they reached the top of the stairs and entered a large hallway that had doors to several other rooms. A startled looking young woman opened one of the doors and peeked out, her mouth falling open as she saw the three disgruntled and dirty fae standing in her hallway. "Capala!" the woman cried. "What are you doing here?"


	11. Chapter Eleven

The woman ran over and pulled Capala into an embrace, an embrace that the officer reluctantly returned. She stepped back, and her eyes widened as she noticed Meghan and Puck standing there. "What is the Queen doing here? Robin Goodfellow?"

"Curie?" A second head emerged from behind the door, and her face mirrored the first womans as she ran out into the hallway to meet the others. "Capala? Your Majesty? What are you doing here?"

Capala coughed. "Curie, Lumen. It's good to see you. Myself, her Majesty and Robin Goodfellow have been on the run from the rebels that attacked the palace for some time, and we managed to get to the family trod in Mexico and arrive back here. I decided it would be best to hide in plain sight; that, and we had nowhere else to go." She took a deep breath. "Your Majesty, Sir Goodfellow, this is my cousin Curie and her wife Lumen."

The first woman, Curie, clothed in a political pantsuit with a tight white bun, bowed to the trio. The second woman, Lumen, mirrored her wife's movements. She wore a loose blouse and knee-length black skirt, and her hair fell down to her shoulders in long silver-blond curls. "We are honored to have you in our home," the pair said in unison. They rose, and Lumen smiled, offering her arm to Robin as Curie presented her hand to Meghan. "Please, come sit down."

"I'd love to," Puck said, forcing a smile. "But I may start feeling woozy in a few minutes from all the Iron. If we could just hurry this along..."

"Oh, of course!" Lumen announced. "We must get you to the palace right away! I'll send for a car."

Capala frowned and turned to Curie as Lumen darted down the hall. "The palace is safe?"

Curie cleared her throat. "It is. The attack on the palace several days ago was made by an isolated extremist group, who are being hunted as we speak. The more political faction of the rebellion is at the palace, negotiating an agreement with General Glitch for Queen Meghan's dethronement."

Capala and Puck glanced at each other. The soldier spoke first. "There are _factions _to the rebellion?"

Curie nodded. "It seems things are more complex than they first appear. There are several different groups dedicated to the impeachment of her Majesty."

"An impeachment?" Puck interjected. "But she hasn't done anything wrong, has she?"

Curie sighed. "There are some who say she has."

"Is Ash okay?" Meghan murmured. Everyone fell silent.

"Prince Ash is recuperating," Curie said at last. "He had a concussion and several internal injuries. He's in the palace hospital, resting up."

Meghan's face paled, but a small sense of relief balanced out her nerves. "Good."

* * *

><p>Soon Lumen returned with news of a car, and the three fey were loaded into a dark, bullet-proof van with tinted windows. Several other vans drove on either side and a few tailed them on their way to the palace. Puck focused on trying to ignore the nausea and burning sensation on his skin. "I'd almost forgotten how Iron feels," he muttered.<br>"We'll get back to the palace soon," Capala assured him. "You can go hump a tree or something when we get there."

Robin laughed. He turned and looked out the windows, watching people point and stare at the parade of vans as they passed by. True to Capala's word, they entered through the front gates and arrived at the Iron palace in a few short minutes. A group of soldiers met them at the front gate and led them into the building, with Glitch meeting them at the front door. "Your Majesty!" He exclaimed, falling to one knee. "I'm so glad you're safe." He rose and came to their side, ushering them into an elevator as he spoke. "We're currently conducting talks with the political faction of the rebellion, and I'm glad you're here to finally watch over them. The Court has struggled in your absence, Your Highness, and we're glad to have you back safe and sound." The elevator dinged and they rushed towards a board room, Glitch speaking faster and faster with each step. "We'll have to please every faction, of course, somehow, and we're trying to find the rebels that went after you. We defeated most of those that attacked the palace, with only a few getting away, and-"

"General." Capala's deep, commanding voice stopped Glitch in his tracks. The general looked at his inferior with disgruntled surprise.

"Yes, Officer?"

"The Queen is emotionally and physically taxed. We have not eaten well in days, and are filthy, thirsty and tired. Please, give us some time to rest."

Glitch blinked. "Of course. My apologies, Your Majesty. Officer Capala is right, and I am being insensitive. Please, find yourselves somewhere to rest while I look after the Queen."

"Yes sir," Capala said, nodding. Glitch vanished into the board room, and in a few moments Meghan was whisked away by a group of soldiers and people in white coats, leaving Capala and Robin alone in the hallway. Capala sighed. "I guess we should find you a room."

They walked through the building towards the Summer wing, and noticed the debris that still sat on the floor, the holes in the walls covered by caution tape and construction equipment concealing damage done to the walls, ceilings and floors. Even as they entered what Puck recognized as familiar hallways, and birdsong and golden sunlight still hung in the pathways, he could not shake a strange, uneasy feeling. Capala found him a room that hadn't been damaged too much, and they entered.

Smaller than Robin's first room, with a stained ceiling and small rocks pushed to the corners of the room and a thin layer of dust on the floor, but it would do. "Thanks, Cap," Puck said with a grin. He ran up and jumped on the bed, coughing as a large cloud of dust rose around him as he disturbed the covers. Capala laughed.

"This place needs to be cleaned. I'm sure we can find someone to do it."

"Nah, I'm fine," Robin said, waving a hand as he laid back on the bed. "I've slept in worse places."

"Oh?" Capala came further into the room.

"Yeah. Definitely worse places." Puck sat up on the bed, cross-legged as he watched Capala walk around the room, trailing a hand across each piece of now grimy furniture. "At least it's better than the ground."

Capala chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that." She approached the bed and sat down beside him, crossing her arms and releasing a deep sigh. "I don't know if I'm going to look forward to cleaning up this mess."

"I thought you said we'd get the servants to do it," Puck said. Capala shot him a look.

"This _political _mess."

"Oh."

Capala chuckled again, this time sitting down beside him. "I'm pretty sure Meghan is out of the picture, what with worrying about Ash and her own health. I'm a fairly high-ranking officer, so I'm going to have to do a lot of the heavy lifting. Between the general, the Advisors Council and the district governors, as well as the ambassadors of the rebellion, I'm going to have to carry out any new laws and rules they come up with." Capala's lips pursed. "You know, I didn't know the rebellion had factions. I assumed it was kind of a...big, faceless entity. But if it has factions? That means it's organized, controlled. It disturbs me, a little, to think that so many people dislike the queen that a genuine movement has formed to overthrow her."

Beat. "That's the most I've ever heard you say at one time."

Capala laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Well, I get a little passionate about politics." Her face returned to its worried frown. "But in all seriousness, I don't know what to think. To be honest, Robin, I'm not sure how I feel about the queen any more."

Puck raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were all, 'Oh I'm so patriotic and duty-bound, love my country and protect the queen above all else, blah blah blah.'"

Capala sighed. "I know. I thought so too. But then I saw the queen up close, and I just...she can't even protect herself, or control her emotions, or defend her people. She made a mistake and contacted a dangerous group over the radio, and because of that we've been on the run for over a week. Without me, without you, she would have died a long time ago. Why does she get to be queen?"

A vision of himself in the past, with Ash and Grimalkin by his side as he protected Meghan, made Puck's stomach churn. "Meghan has always been dependant on other people."

"And is that a good trait for a queen?" Capala insisted, waving her hands as her eyes grew passionate. "To lose it as soon as the going gets tough? To always need help from other people, to never be able to take the reins and manage her life on her own? How can she expect her people to put their patriotic duty above their personal feelings if she can't do it herself?"

Robin waited until Capala calmed down, her face falling and her arms dropping to her sides. "In any case," she murmured. "it's not for me to say. I do my duty, and that's all I _can _do."

A few moments passed. "Well, whatever happens," Puck said. "You can count on me. Cliché or no."

Capala smiled. "Thank you, for that." She turned and looked up at the trickster, her eyes sparkling. Robin's heart picked up, and he remembered her same smile the day he heard her singing in the kitchen. The feeling in his heart when she thanked him for being there after they ran from the cabin. He swallowed a suddenly dry throat. Leaning in, he hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Their lips met and Puck felt his heart stop. He halted for a millisecond to see what she would do and felt her pressing back, kissing him eagerly. He let his arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer to him and enjoying her taste, her smell, her touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, fingers playing with his hair. Robin leaned further down, pushing her down on the bed and enjoying the feeling of having her body pressed against him. Somewhere along the line, the dust in the bed stopped bothering him.

Something crashed outside the door and they both jerked, pulling away from each other and listening for any other sounds. Puck blinked and his brain went back to him. Where he was, what he was doing, and the woman lying underneath him. Their eyes met. Capala's cheeks were flushed pink, their bodies crushed together and her hands still around his neck. She shut her open mouth and sat up, pulling away from him and nearly falling off the bed as she did so. "I have to go," she stuttered. "I have to go."

Capala bolted from the room, throwing open the door and not even bothering to close it as she ran out. Robin blinked, blinked again, and sighed. "Well, fuck."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Puck woke up the next morning still regretting the previous night. "What did I do?" he muttered, even as he walked to the only part of the palace with working showers. "I fucked up. She's never going to talk to me again. She hates me. It's all my fault. All my fault..."

He repeated this mantra in his head while he showered, dressed and shaved. He didn't see her all morning, even at breakfast. When Glitch came to collect him, he asked about her first. "Officer Capala?" Glitch repeated. "She'll be at the board meeting with the Queen and the Advisors Council. Which is why I'm here; please come with me."

The boardroom was located in the Summer Wing, for Robin's benefit as much as because it had been damaged the least in the course of the attack all those weeks ago. Around the long, dark table in the room sat several other military officers, Capala included, and multiple men and women wearing tags proclaiming them official advisors of Queen Meghan. Meghan sat in a chair at the head of the table, and Glitch took the seat to her right, leaving Robin to squeeze in between two advisors. He tried to meet Capala's eyes, but she refused to look at him.

"As you all know, Office Capala, Sir Goodfellow and our own Queen Meghan have returned from their escape into the mortal realm. They do not know many of changes that have occurred in their absence, and I have called you all here so you may tell her Majesty and her companions of what has happened, and so we may know what happened during their journey." He gestured to the man sitting at his right. "Sir Watt, speak."

The man cleared his throat. "Thank you, General."

The meeting went on for some time, each advisor or officer saying their piece and then gesturing to the next person in line. Robin found out just how large the rebellion was, and just what the rebels wanted. The answer being, there were more rebels than loyalists, and they all wanted Meghan to step down one way or another. Puck could see Capala get tenser with each speech, as they listened to the massive amounts of damage done to the city and to the palace, and how there were riots in the streets. In the few days since they had been gone, there had been sit-ins, boycotts, brawls, and many accounts of soldiers defending themselves against citizen attacks.

"I didn't know," Meghan murmured, her eyes wide. "I thought my people were happy."

"We thought so too," Glitch sighed. "But I think resentment has grown for a long time, and now the attack just allowed those feelings to spill over. The rebels incited a revolution."

A revolution. Puck ran the words through his mind. He couldn't help comparing the Meghan he knew now to the teenage girl he had left. The sixteen year old girl, who loved a Winter prince and just wanted to save her brother. Robin felt a small sigh pass his lips. So much had changed, and not without consequences.

"Goodfellow?" It sounded like Glitch was repeating himself. Robin jerked his head to find the group staring at him. "Would you like to tell us your side of the story?"

"Um," Puck coughed. "I think Officer Capala would tell the story better."

All heads swiveled to Capala, who swallowed and began to speak. In an emotionless, professional tone she recounted the details of the journey, from going by submarine, to going through the desert, and arriving at her family's trod in Mexico. The adventure had only lasted a few weeks, but to Puck it felt like months.

"But how did these mysterious attackers find the cabin?" one officer asked. Capala tensed and glanced at Meghan, who wore wide and frightened eyes. The officer swallowed.

"There was...a signal, going off in the basement. We thought the cabin had no technology, but we were wrong. There was a radio station below the house that left a trail for the attackers to follow."

"And the rebels found out Goodfellow had accompanied her Majesty?" Glitch asked. Capala nodded. "Then the message makes a little more sense."

Puck frowned. "What message?"

"We heard something about the extremist faction of the rebellion a few days ago, and didn't know what to make of it," Glitch explained. "They were the ones who followed you and tried to kill you. I imagine they realized you were with the Queen because, let's be honest, no one else could transform into a bird and then fly away like you did. Because we know this now, our intelligence makes more sense."

Robin set his jaw, his frustration and anxiety growing. "What is it?"

The general hesitated. "The rebels are going after the dryads."

All color drained from Puck's face. His throat went dry and his heart raced. They were going after the dryads. After Aster. "Why?" he croaked.

"They thought they could lure you and the Queen to the forest and capture you there. They must not know you're with us again. Yet."

Puck's hands balled into fists. "I have to go protect them. The extremists might still hurt them, regardless of Meghan being safe."

"They might." Glitch nodded. "Tell us everything you know about the dryads. We can send anyone we can spare over to help them."

Robin began talking about the dryads, potential defenses and weaponry, supplies, territory, among other things. Anything and everything the generals and advisors asked about. The rest of the meeting passed quickly, and as soon as it finished Puck started racing back to his room. But on his way back, Meghan stopped him. "Puck?" she murmured. "Can I talk to you?"

Robin raised both eyebrows. "Of course."

The Iron Queen pulled him around a corner and took his hands in her own. "Please don't go after the dryads."

"What?" Puck's jaw dropped. "You can't ask me to do that! I have to go protect them!"

"I know, I know, but I can send some of my soldiers after them. Robbie, I need you beside me. You're my best friend, and I need you here with me."

"Meghan, I...you can't ask me to choose."

The woman's eyes started to tear up. "Robbie, I..." she took a deep breath. "Robin, the doctors told me Ash might not make it."

"What?" Puck's eyes widened.

She shook her head. "They said he's seriously injured. He might _die_, Robin. And...that made me think about things. About us."

Robin's heartbeat sped up. "What...what do you mean?"

Meghan stepped closer to him. "Puck, you're my best friend, and I know I couldn't live without you by my side. And, with Ash dying...it made me think about what you really mean to me. I thought you were my friend, all my life, and then you died protecting me. Now, with my people betraying me, and now I'm older and wiser, I understand what that means." She paused, and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in the tricksters ear. "Robin, I love you."

And then she kissed him.

In his mind, Robin knew this was everything he had ever wanted. Ash dead, Meghan in love with him, and a whole new life by Meghan's side if he asked for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something in the shadows move. A feminine figure dart away, down the hall and out of earshot. Puck pulled away from Meghan (something he never thought he'd do) and stood up. "Meghan, I...I need to think about this."

Meghan furrowed her brow. "I don't understand."

Robin's head was spinning from the lingering sensation of Meghan's taste on his lips, her touch on his hand. But forced himself to stay focused and started chasing after the footsteps. He was vaguely aware of Meghan chasing after him, but he didn't care. He followed the footsteps down the hall to one of the inner gardens, a small courtyard-like room with trees, grass and neon flowers swaying in the wind. Yet another reminder of the Summer Court, but one Robin ignored. He travelled the paths between the trees to the source of the steps, hiding behind a tree once he caught sight of the source of the steps.

Capala stood in the middle of a small grove, her arms wrapped around herself. Puck could see the expression on her face, stony and emotionless, while her eyes held all her vulnerability. Robin dared to step out from behind cover. "Capala."

The woman raised her head to meet his gaze. "Puck."

The trickster swallowed. "It's not what it looks like."

"Don't say that, Robin," Capala said, her voice quiet and calm. "I don't own you. You don't have to apologize to me."

"But I do," he insisted. He walked closer, but Capala matched his every step to maintain the distance between them. "Cap, I don't-"

"Don't give me that." The woman shook her head. "She's your princess. The girl you knew and loved for years. This is everything you've ever wanted, isn't it? I've heard the stories. The Summer jester, madly in love with Oberon's daughter only to have her stolen away by the Winter prince. Why wouldn't you want her now?"

"Puck?" Robin felt his heart drop as Meghan emerged behind him. "What's going on?"

"Meghan, hold on." Puck swallowed. "Capala, please listen to me."

"There's nothing to listen to," the Iron soldier murmured. "I'm not part of your story. I was stupid to think I could be."

Meghan's small hand tugged on Robin's arm. "Puck, I love you. Why are you doing this to me?"

Robin groaned and turned around to face the Iron Queen. "Because, I...I don't even know if I love you any more!"

The blond woman pursed her lips, her eyes wide. "Robin, please. Please don't say no. I need you."

"Just go," came Capala's dull voice. "Just...go."

A thousand thoughts and feelings tumbled through the tricksters mind. Half of him wanted to pull Meghan close, and love her as he always had done. He wanted to have that life, the life he had dreamed of for _years_. But the other half wanted to run over to Capala, and get to know the girl he worked with so well, who laughed at him and fought with him. He wanted...he wanted...what did he want?

"Robbie, if you choose her, I'll never forgive you."

"Puck, I'm sorry I did this to you."

"Robbie, listen to me."

"Puck, just leave."

"_Robbie!_"

"_Puck_."

What did he want?


	13. Thanks For Reading!

The End!

Author's Notes: Thank you all for making it this far! This started out as my first fic ever written and has turned into several reposts, re-edits and rewrites. Thank you all so much for reading my same silly story several times (try saying that five times fast) and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm finally finished with it and will be working on the sequel shortly. Feel free to check my profile to see other work that I've done.

Thanks again for reading!


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